Honor Among Thieves
by Impyrium
Summary: The assault on the Collector Base is complete, and the crew of the Normandy has scattered. Zaeed Massani finds himself on Elysium, broke and in debt to the wrong people. Kasumi Goto is up to her usual tricks and thievery. Their paths cross and they form an unlikely partnership - to get revenge on their enemies as well as make it off the planet with their lives.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Welcome to my second fanfic! This story will likely consist of a few chapters, but it might go for a bit longer if I come up with more ideas.

Rated T for violence and minor swearing.

~#~#~#~

"Mr. Massani!"

The voice rang sharply, causing the mercenary to jerk upright in his chair. He had been in that peculiar no man's land between sleep and consciousness, where one could feel their mind drifting away, yet be fully aware of it. Zaeed's mismatched eyes blinked rapidly as he tried to clear the blurriness from his vision.

"Yeah?" Zaeed cleared his throat and then hastily added "Sir". He included the honorific with a poorly-masked tone of scorn and insubordination.

Mr. Davies stared disapprovingly, wondering whether he should scold the man for sleeping on the job. He knew he had the authority to discipline Zaeed, but something about the hired gun was oddly feral. Mr. Davies had insisted that Zaeed wear the formal uniform of his security staff, and the mercenary had reluctantly obliged him. And yet, between the man's hideously scarred face, the one pale eye, and his Blue Suns mercenary tattoo, there was something about Zaeed Massani that made Mr. Davies nervous. One of the other bodyguards had joked 'You can't polish a turd!' in reference to Zaeed's new appearance, but to Mr. Davies, it was more akin to dressing a varren in a three-piece suit.

Mr. Davies was a lawyer, under the employ of a man named Franco Antonelli. The lawyer was a pale, skinny man – so slender that he appeared almost skeletal. Strands of white, wispy hair were neatly combed above a face that seemed rigid in a state of perpetual dissatisfaction.

"This way please, Mr. Massani." The lawyer chose to ignore Zaeed's obvious dereliction of duty, deciding that the upcoming meeting might be unpleasant enough already.

They walked down an empty hallway, on expensive hardwood floors topped with a rich purple carpet. Every few feet, a different painting hung on the wall – portraits and landscapes purchased from Earth, Palaven, Thessia, and even one that was reputedly painted on Rannoch before the Geth War.

They came to a large room, similarly furnished in extravagance. Larger paintings hung from the walls here, and each of them sat between alternating marble and obsidian sculptures. In the center of the room, two rows of turian statues stood sentinel. Each one portrayed a unique turian hero from ancient times, carved from some silvery mineral native to Palaven. All loomed larger than a fully grown man and each seemed to silently judge the pair of men walking between them. The two men continued to the only furniture present in the room: an intricately carved mahogany desk, and a high-backed leather chair facing the room's entrance.

The man who sat in the chair was Franco Antonelli. He was a massive man, made fat by years of indulgence and decadence. His nervous eyes shifted constantly from underneath a mop of greasy brown hair as the two men approached. He always appeared tense and sweating, even though he had little reason to be. A small army of security guards patrolled his enormous estate, and a loyal elite few stayed by his side at all times. In that very room, there were four of them: two by the entrance, and one standing to each side of the desk. Franco was one of the most powerful men amongst Elysium's criminal underbelly, and upon seeing Zaeed step closer, he grinned. It wasn't a smile born of friendliness, but one that communicated a clear message: that Franco Antonelli virtually owned Zaeed Massani, and both men knew it.

~#~#~#~

Zaeed had departed from the Normandy shortly after Commander Shepard's successful attack through the Omega-4 Relay. As promised, The Illusive Man had paid him handsomely for his services. It was more money than Zaeed had ever seen in his life, and so he did what other impoverished men often did when faced with excessive wealth – he spent it carelessly. The first few months upon leaving the Normandy were a blur of exotic foods, expensive liquors, and beautiful women. Trouble came when Zaeed started to dabble in gambling – not in legitimate casinos, but in the posh, secret back-rooms of dangerous and wealthy men.

He had found himself in one such room on Elysium, playing a high-stakes version of poker that was popular on Irune. Zaeed had both his good and bad nights, but that evening had been catastrophic. By the end, he found himself owing a massive sum of money that would've nearly bankrupted him.

The game was hosted by Hector Vilmarc, a man responsible for most of the smuggling that took place on Elysium. His nephew, Stefan, was there in person presiding over the game. Stefan was new to the organization and eager to prove himself. Upon seeing Zaeed's misfortune, he decided to demonstrate his authority.

"You have twenty-four hours to get us the money." Stefan personally delivered the ultimatum as a bitter, half-drunk Zaeed was preparing to leave.

"Yeah, yeah. You'll get what's owed you," muttered Zaeed, not even bothering to look up.

"You have twenty-four hours, or I will **personally** shatter your legs." Stefan grabbed Zaeed by the shoulder and attempted to force the man to face him. The mercenary's gaze was full of murderous hatred, and Stefan inadvertently took a step backward.

"Personally? I doubt you could wipe your own arse without needing your little goons to lend a hand." Zaeed spoke softly, but his words dripped with malice. "Now, I'm sure you need to get back to counting your uncle's money like a good little bitch. Kindly get the hell out of my way."

Stefan's face turned a deep shade of red and contorted with anger. He pulled a gilded, ornate pistol from his belt and pointed it between Zaeed's eyes. The muzzle, mere inches from Zaeed's face, quivered as Stefan visibly shook with rage. The mercenary appeared to smile, but it more closely resembled a predator baring its teeth.

"Not smart, boy. Not smart at all..."

There had been three other bodyguards in the room, but Zaeed's reputation as one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy was well-earned. Even inebriated, he fought with ruthless skill, and within minutes all four enemies were on the ground. The bodyguards had been beaten into unconsciousness with the gilded pistol, which lay broken and useless on the floor. Stefan had also been knocked out, but not before Zaeed had broken both his legs, one arm, and half the teeth in his mouth. Zaeed knew deep down that had probably overreacted, but he was too drunk and irate to care. He went home, downed some batarian whiskey, and passed out.

He awoke to a soft pinging noise, indication that he had received a video message over the extranet. Zaeed groaned, thoroughly hungover. Memories of the night before began to flood back into his mind, and he swore viciously. He reasoned it was time to leave Elysium and head to the Terminus Systems, possibly back to Omega. The mercenary hit 'Play' on his apartment's vid screen as he began to pack his belongings.

"Good morning, my friend!" A middle-aged, sharply-dressed man appeared on the screen. His long black hair was slicked back and hung down to just past his ears. A pair of spectacles sat upon a beak-like nose, under which pale eyes seemed to mockingly stare into Zaeed. It was Hector Vilmarc.

"I understand you had a busy night. However, come morning, a man must face the consequences of his actions. As you already know, there are the losses you incurred from my game, which have yet to be paid in full." He flashed a wan, sympathetic smile. "Lady Luck can be quite fickle – God knows I've endured my share of misfortune amongst the cards. But then there stands the matter of my nephew, who is currently recovering in the hospital. Now, I'm sure a number of unsavory men in my line of work might instantly turn to vengeance. However, I am a businessman and out of respect for your reputation, I will allow you twenty-four hours to pay your gambling debt… in addition to restitution for my nephew's pain and suffering."

"Bugger that," Zaeed snarled at the video message.

"If you do not pay within this time, I will be compelled to send my men. I acknowledge your skills and penchant for violence, and we both know that this option will result in many deaths. But understand this: if you force me to this action, I **will **have my pound of flesh." Hector's tone was even, almost as if he were casually discussing the weather. "I have eyes on all the spaceports of Elysium. Attempt to escape the planet, and you will be discovered and brought to me."

Zaeed was hit by the meaning of these words and sat down heavily. He stared at the video image of Hector Vilmarc, and began to feel as if the jaws of a massive steel trap were closing around him.

"Have a good day, my friend. I will see you soon."

The screen went dark, and then proceeded to display the total amount that Zaeed now owed. His eyes narrowed, and he began to utter a string of curses. The amount he owed for assaulting Stefan Vilmarc was far more than the gambling debt – in total, it was nearly double the payment he had received from Cerberus.

The screen turned to static, and Zaeed could hear a faint hissing noise emanating from the computer's memory banks. Undoubtedly, one of Hector's engineers had sent the message with some kind of malware, to force Zaeed's computers into deleting the message once it had been delivered. Zaeed wasn't the type of man to flee to the authorities, but Hector was clearly a careful man.

The mercenary sat in silence for a moment, reflecting. It was an insane, ridiculous amount of money, and Hector had to know that Zaeed could not hope to pay it in twenty-four hours. It was hopeless… but that had been the true message that Hector wanted to convey. For twenty-four hours, Zaeed was meant to scramble desperately for money or await his inevitable demise.

Franco Antonelli was a rival of Hector Vilmarc, and while their antagonism never took the shape of all-out war, there were constant cloak-and-dagger movements to undermine the others' organization. Word of Zaeed's defiance had reached Franco, and so Mr. Davies had soon approached the mercenary with an offer. Zaeed would be hired as a member of the crime boss' security staff, and Mr. Davies would arrange for portions of his salary to repay the debt. And all the while, Zaeed's continued survival would serve as an insult to the Vilmarc family's pride.

Zaeed was not afraid of fighting Hector's assassins, but like all older mercenaries, he had long since learned when a fight was best avoided. Therefore, he had consented to Mr. Davies' offer, and sealed the agreement by signing a contract. Zaeed figured he could wait a few weeks until the heat died down, escape from Franco's mansion, and find a way off the planet. However, he had failed to account for the cunning of his new employers.

Franco Antonelli lived in the hills a few miles north of Illyria, in an elegant mansion that housed the man's extensive art collection. But it was also a fortress. High walls surrounded the perimeter of the mansion, manned by loyal members of his security staff. Advanced automated systems complete with drones monitored both the inside and outside of the estate. Zaeed, who was only given a weak stun pistol with a limited number of charges, quickly discovered that leaving in secret would not be so simple.

The contract prevented him from leaving through more legitimate means. Zaeed had not bothered to read it when he signed the document, but he soon realized his mistake. He had apparently signed a three-year minimum contract under Franco Antonelli. The pay, which had seemed reasonable at first, was subject to change on the whim of his employers at any time.

Above all, Zaeed knew that if he caused too much trouble, Franco would have no qualms about simply selling him to Hector. But instead, the man enjoyed displaying Zaeed in front of guests as 'one of his finest killers in the galaxy'. It was mainly this obsession with ownership that had saved Zaeed from Hector. Franco collected rare and exotic items from all across the galaxy. It was mostly artwork, but when Zaeed first arrived at the mansion, there had been some endangered creature from Thessia that Franco kept as a pet, caged in his library. Zaeed never knew what kind of creature it was, but it seemed to resemble a lion with a distinctly bird-like face. Without more than a few square feet to stretch its legs, the noble creature grew sick over the course of weeks, and wasted away to nothing. Such was how Franco Antonelli treated his belongings.

~#~#~#~

"We need to discuss the matter of your salary, Mr. Massani." Franco spoke in a nasally, high-pitched voice that seemed peculiar for a man his size. "Operating costs of conducting business have been rising. We all need to tighten our belts, so to speak." Zaeed highly doubted that Franco was capable of wearing a belt, but he kept the quip to himself.

"As your contract allows, we will be thus be adjusting your compensation," Mr. Davies chimed in. "The adjustment will be... twenty-five percent."

Zaeed's hands clenched into fists. Having his salary cut by twenty-five percent would add years beyond his minimum three, as he attempted to pay off his debt. Years in which he would just be another trophy: guarding an empty stretch of hallway, parading in front of guests, and enduring Franco's constant goading.

"Well, Mr. Massani?" asked Franco, eagerly searching Zaeed's face for a sign of impotent anger.

But Zaeed merely nodded and did his best to make his face completely blank. Franco frowned briefly in disappointment, and then waved his hand dismissively indicating the pair should leave. As they were walking away from the desk, Zaeed began to study the two bodyguards by the door. He figured he could disarm one, shoot the other, and then take cover behind the turian statues. The other two guards by the desk would return fire, but he figured Franco would be too slow and fat to escape from his chair. It would probably mean Zaeed's eventual death, but it was preferable to this purgatory. Zaeed steeled his resolve and stepped ever closer to the bodyguards, who eyed him carefully in return.

The lights went off. Within seconds, the emergency lighting was humming to life, casting the room in an eerie red glow. But as the lights came on, Zaeed thought he saw the door slightly ajar and then close silently, although nobody else appeared to enter the room.

"What is this?!" Franco shrieked, and all his bodyguards drew their weapons.

Mr. Davies activated his omni-tool and spoke into it. "Security teams, report in!" There was only an odd, distorted electrical noise in response.

"Looks like you're signal is being jammed locally," Zaeed spoke with a hint of relish. "Somebody's on their way to this room. Perhaps... they're already here?" He realized there was the possibility that Hector Vilmarc was making his move against him, but he no longer cared – it was better to die fighting than to live in a cage.

"Shut your eyes." A whisper came from Zaeed's left. He was puzzled, but the voice was familiar and he instinctively obeyed.

Even through closed eyelids, Zaeed could see a sudden, blinding flash of light between the two bodyguards at the door. A shockwave of pure sound forced him and Mr. Davies to the ground, but having shielded his eyes before the blast, he quickly recovered. Zaeed was able to see a blurred shadow dart from one confounded bodyguard to the next. As the figure struck, a silver stun baton pressed against their necks; in a flash of green light, they groaned and slumped to the ground. The assailant wore a tight-fitting silver and black outfit, with a hood covering a large part of the face. The figure vanished again, and Zaeed nearly laughed out loud.

Kasumi Goto was a thief, arguably the best in the galaxy. Her name wasn't well-known, but that near-anonymity was evidence of her status as an elite. She had also been hired by Cerberus to join Commander Shepard aboard the Normandy. They both left the ship around the same time, but Kasumi had done so in secret before anybody realized she had gone, as was her style. Zaeed had heard nothing about her since.

"You might want to stay down; I wouldn't want to get you in trouble..." The whisper came again, and Zaeed felt a slight breeze as a silent figure rushed past him to the other end of the room. The other two bodyguards had their weapons ready now, and were firing blindly in the direction of the entrance. Zaeed, still on the ground, had to roll behind a statue to avoid being hit by their wild gunfire.

"There! He's cloaked!" One of the guards noticed the subtle shimmer of a tactical cloak and concentrated his fire. The blurred outline seemed to be struck by the gunshots, and was replaced by the standing, motionless figure of Kasumi. Even as the bullets impacted her body, the figure was oddly still, and frozen in mid-sprint. The visage of the running form flickered.

"It's a decoy!" The other bodyguard yelled, but before he could do anything more, Kasumi was behind him. The stun baton jabbed into his lower back, and his mouth gaped in a silent scream as he fell in temporary paralysis. With perfect aim, Kasumi threw the baton – its trajectory a straight line between her hand and the final bodyguard's forehead. There came an emerald flash of light, a groan of pain, and single thud.

"W-who are you?" Franco stammered. He tried to push himself to his feet, his plump arms struggling with the effort. Kasumi casually walked to him and pushed the man back into his chair.

"You don't need to be afraid. I didn't come here to hurt anybody. Well... not too badly at least." Kasumi spoke in her usual tone with its faint hint of mischief. "You have a beautiful collection here. I especially liked that painting of the nude asari – it's surprisingly tasteful. But I'm here for something else." Quick as a serpent, her hand shot out and pulled Franco's hand toward her.

"No!" Franco protested, but his voice was feeble. Around his wrist was a bracelet. It was a simple piece of jewelry: constructed from an onyx-colored metal and studded with dull, burgundy-colored stones.

"Rumor has it that this is prothean. Technological artifacts are rare enough, but jewelry?" Kasumi shrugged at her own question. "It seems their society didn't put much emphasis on vanity. A treasure indeed..." Franco tried to pull his hand back, but Kasumi was surprisingly strong for a woman of her slim frame.

"I-It's just a family heirloom. Purely sentimental value!" whined Franco, but his tone was hardly convincing.

Kasumi drew a short, wicked-looking knife. "Franco..." The thief spoke endearingly. "Please take off the bracelet. For me?" She gave his hand a quick affectionate squeeze, but kept the blade well within his sight. Franco's eyes were wide, but he said nothing. Frantically, he began to remove the bracelet and Zaeed grinned. He and the thief had very different means of handling an enemy, but he admired her.

There came a sudden stirring of movement from Zaeed's left. Mr. Davies, who had recovered from the flashbang grenade, was sitting upright. He held a short pistol that must have been concealed in his suit pocket. Kasumi, her back turned to the lawyer, was oblivious to the danger. Zaeed let a cold fury take hold of his body.

With a hoarse shout, he tackled the lawyer, an instant before the trigger could be pulled. He savagely wrenched the weapon from the shocked lawyer's hand, and swung his fist down into the man's stomach. Mr. Davies gaped up at Zaeed, but the mercenary quickly continued the assault, striking the man across the face repeatedly. A soft moan escaped the older man's lips as he curled into a ball, while Zaeed stood and spat with derision.

"I bloody hate lawyers."

"You!" Franco yelled. "I saved you! You'd be sliced up into little pieces somewhere if it weren't for me!" He pointed an accusing finger at Zaeed. Kasumi turned to gaze at the mercenary; her head nodded slightly in thanks.

"You know what? You're right," Zaeed observed thoughtfully as he stepped toward the desk. "And that's why I won't kill you. I owe you that much. But... I **do** owe you this." Suddenly, Zaeed snatched up the stun baton from the floor. He grabbed Franco by the face, his fingers digging into the man's soft fleshy jowls. Zaeed forced the man's jaws apart and jammed the stun baton up against the roof of his mouth. There came an anguished cry, and green light illuminated the inside of Franco's mouth and nostrils. Kasumi winced.

"He'll definitely be feeling that one for a few days," she commented, fixing the bracelet around her own wrist. Zaeed removed the stun baton from an unconscious Franco's mouth and offered it to the thief. Her nose wrinkled at sight of saliva dripping from its end. "...You keep it."

"So, what now?" Zaeed asked and wiped the baton on the front of Franco's suit, before slipping it into his pocket.

"Now? I take my leave." Kasumi gave an admiring, appreciative look at her new prize, then smiled at Zaeed. "The security systems should be down for another twenty minutes or so. But I'd better leave now before the rest of his bodyguards figure out what's going on."

"Fine. Let's go."

"Us?" questioned Kasumi. She glanced at the corpulent man in the chair. "Well, I suppose so. That **was** one hell of a resignation notice." The thief chuckled, and the pair walked from the room and into the hallway.

"I can't wait to be rid of this place," Zaeed grumbled.

"I was rather surprised to see you here. Hard times?"

"You could say that." Zaeed didn't want to say much more.

"Well, now you can have a fresh start," Kasumi responded cheerfully. "I probably have a couch you can crash on for a day or two and-" She stopped abruptly as Zaeed halted before one of the hallway's paintings. It was the portrait of the nude asari. Zaeed pulled a hidden knife from one of his boots and Kasumi watched with curiosity. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Severance pay." Zaeed began to cut the painting out of its frame. "This one was my favorite too. Very... what did you call it? 'Tasteful'..."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Sorry about the delay! I've been busy this last month, and my agreeing to take part in the fic swap from the Aria's Afterlife forum delayed things a bit. In the interest of getting something out, there were some events I had planned for this chapter that will now happen in Chapter 3, hence the slightly shorter word count.

Hope you enjoy! Reviews are appreciated!

~#~#~#~

When Zaeed first heard that they were headed for Kasumi's hideout, he had expected for the shuttlecar to arrive at some abandoned factory, or at a secluded cabin in the woods. What he had not expected was The Oceanus, the most luxurious and expensive hotel on Elysium. Their shuttlecar touched down on a private landing pad of the hotel's roof, complete with its own selective barrier to prevent unwanted guests from landing. The roof's elevator led down into the penthouse suite on the building's top floor – or as Zaeed found out: the penthouse suite which encompassed the **entirety** of the building's top floor.

The doors opened to reveal a spacious living room area, furnished with white fur carpets, plush sofas, and a stunning view of the Illyrian cityscape. Kasumi activated her omni-tool and studied its readings briefly, before confirming that there had been no intruders during her absence. She began to show him around. The suite had its own study, personal gym area, and a kitchen worthy of a full restaurant.

"If I recall correctly, you said you had a 'couch I could crash on'?" Zaeed asked sarcastically as he poked his head into one of the several lavish bedrooms.

"Well, you **did **choose to sleep in the Normandy's cargo hold." Kasumi smiled innocently. "I wasn't sure how much luxury you were used to."

"Oh believe me, it's quite easy to get used to when you have plenty of money..."

Over drinks, Zaeed eventually told Kasumi the full story of how he ended up in Franco Antonelli's mansion: the catastrophic poker game, the savage beating he gave Hector Vilmarc's nephew, and the misleading offer for protection made by Franco's lawyer. The woman stayed silent, letting him finish the tale uninterrupted. At its end, she gave him a sympathetic look – or at least Zaeed thought it was sympathetic, for it was hard to tell with the hood obscuring most of her face.

"Well, I guess you're lucky that I showed up."

"Hmph. I was getting ready to shoot my way out of there. You just saved me some time, that's all."

"Oh, I've seen you in action. Being good with an assault rifle does wonders when you're surrounded by Collectors. But certain situations call for... a little finesse." To emphasize her point, Kasumi suddenly vanished as her tactical cloak engaged. A noise off to Zaeed's left made him jerk his head, but as he did, the expensive wine bottle on his right-hand table vanished into the aegis of Kasumi's cloak. She reappeared in her seat, and poured herself a generous helping.

"I gotta get me one of those," Zaeed chuckled.

"It's not as simple as using kinetic shields, even if they use the same power packs for energy," replied Kasumi. "Sudden, jarring motion tends to disrupt the cloak. So, you need fluid practiced movements to minimize the shimmering outline that others detect."

Zaeed considered this and the graceful movements that Kasumi made, even when moving about normally. "I think I'll leave all that subtlety to you," he concluded.

Zaeed and Kasumi had never been that close; on the Normandy, they rarely spoke to each other outside of the terse utterances necessary in combat. But as they continued drinking, they began to feel more at ease, and quickly found themselves reminiscing about their time on the ship.

"So, did you ever feel like Shepard was never that comfortable around us?" Kasumi paused to take another sip of wine. "I mean, she'd come into the observatory after a mission to check in, and I'd talk to her about the crew or the paintings on my wall. But she never had much to say in response."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Zaeed nodded. "I showed her some trophies and told her a few war stories. She'd listen politely and all, but then she'd just scurry off to have her little heart-to-heart chats with the likes of 'Archangel' and everybody else." He considered this for a moment, and then shrugged. "Maybe it's for the best, I don't know if I could stand all the constant inquiries into my well-being."

"She did all right by us in the end, though. My heists rarely go wrong, but when things went south with Donovan Hock on Bekenstein... I probably wouldn't have gotten out alive if it weren't for her."

"Yeah, I'll give her that," Zaeed admitted. "I sleep a lot better knowing that bastard Vido Santiago is burning in hell."

"To Shepard." Kasumi raised her wine bottle, for the two rogues had long since abandoned using glasses. Zaeed echoed her and they both drank.

~#~#~#~

Zaeed awoke to the smell of food, as trays of breakfast arrived through the suite's private, automated dumbwaiter. He was splayed out on the couch, with half-empty bottles of alcohol surrounding him. Kasumi – looking fresh and fully awake – handed him a plate. Propping himself upright, Zaeed accepted it with a nod as thanks.

"I never asked – how the hell does a master thief end up renting the most expensive room, in the most expensive hotel on Elysium?" asked Zaeed.

"Well the room is paid for, courtesy of the Noveria Development Corporation – but they don't know that yet." She smiled mischievously. "By the time their accountants catch it, I'll be long gone. And as far as the hotel staff is concerned, I'm an extremely wealthy salarian Dalatrass, who insists on being left alone. It's nothing too unusual; the kind of people who rent these rooms tend to value discretion."

"So, I have to ask... before you leave, will you nick the towels and tiny shampoo bottles, or is that too far beneath you?" They both laughed.

The pair finished their breakfast and cleared away the mess of the previous night. Afterward, Zaeed stood at the vast windows with which the hotels had replaced the outer walls, so that occupants could appreciate the gorgeous view without any obstructions.

"I feel like I'm in a bloody aquarium here," he observed, referring to the seeming lack of privacy the suite afforded. "Are these glass walls really such a good idea?"

"They're not actually glass," corrected Kasumi. "On this floor, they're actually massive screens that project a real-time feed of the surrounding location from here. They have extremely fine pixel density and virtually zero latency. And if you get bored, you could always switch it to something else."

"I can only imagine watching a game of biotiball on a screen like this. Oh, how the rich live..." Zaeed turned to her. "So now that you have your little prothean bracelet, are you done here on Elysium?"

"Not quite." Kasumi paused, as if she were hesitant to reveal anything further. "There's one more job I'm taking, but you don't need to worry about it. When I finish, I'll make sure you get off the planet safely."

"I have the distinct feeling you don't want to tell me, Kasumi." Zaeed feigned hurt at her unwillingness. "Well I'll just be here enjoying the hotel room. I'm not keen on 'finesse', so you can go ahead and fill me in."

"…If you say so." Kasumi studied his face intently. "I suppose your tactical input on the situation might be helpful. Come with me." She led him to the hotel suite's study. In the center of the room there stood what seemed to be an ordinary wooden table. But when Kasumi activated her omni-tool, two thin panels on the table's surface split apart to reveal a holographic emitter. A translucent white projection of a ten-story building appeared, with a corporate logo that Zaeed recognized immediately.

"You're going to rob Hector Vilmarc." A smile crept onto his face. "I'm coming with you."

"You said you weren't interested in 'finesse'," protested Kasumi.

"That was before you were going to rob the bastard that ruined me. Now tell me everything."

Shaking her head, Kasumi gave an exasperated sigh and activated a few commands on her omni-tool. The walls of the projected building became transparent to reveal the interior.

"Hector Vilmarc has contracts to help run most of the spaceports on Elysium. This facility is an administration and control tower for a rarely-used port on the planet's southern hemisphere. Typically, when Hector wants to smuggle something in, he'll have his paid contacts in Elysium Flight Control redirect it here. Almost everybody that works at this port is on his payroll." The holographic projection zoomed in, until the fifth floor of the building was in focus. "If you compare the official building schematics to the actual dimensions, you can see that one-sixth of the space on this floor is unaccounted for. The information I gathered suggests that there are hidden rooms that hold many of his smuggled goods: drugs, illegal weapons… and slaves."

"He has a hand in the slave trade?" Zaeed asked incredulously. "In Alliance territory?"

"We're not too far from batarian space. Sometimes it's easier and cheaper for raiders to buy human slaves that come from here, rather than raid some sparsely populated colonies."

"Selling his own kind into slavery... Charming little bugger, isn't he?" He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "So what are we here to steal, exactly?"

"Information - records, mostly. His suppliers, his buyers, and every deal he's ever done... all that information needs to be kept close by so it can be updated frequently. He keeps it stored on a computer in one of the hidden rooms, cut off from the network so that physical access is required."

"So what do you plan to do once you get it?"

"Well, this is technically a contract job… for the Shadow Broker. The Broker seems interested in shutting him down." She looked toward Zaeed to gauge his reaction.

"Huh. I worked a job for him once. He certainly pays well enough." He stroked the stubble on his chin wistfully. "I wonder why he cares so much about smuggling."

"Maybe you should ask Shepard." There was an edge of mischief in Kasumi's voice.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do you remember that mission to Hagalaz, right before we left the Normandy? It was all hush-hush – only Shepard, Liara, Garrus, and Tali were on the away team."

"Ah yeah…'Normandy SR-1' members only, I guess." Zaeed nodded, remembering. "I didn't really care; I was just waiting for my cash transfer from Cerberus to clear."

"Well, that mission was about meeting the Shadow Broker. I wasn't able to get much information without alerting EDI, but I have my suspicions about what transpired." When it became clear that Kasumi wouldn't reveal anything more, Zaeed grumbled.

"You and your secrets…"

"Regardless, I've found no evidence that there's anything sinister or suspicious about this contract. It should be pretty straightforward." She shrugged. "I take the shuttlecar and set it down far enough outside the spaceport to avoid detection. With all the machinery and crates that surround the building, my tactical cloak can get me inside. "

"And once you're inside?" Zaeed interjected. "You've got a few paths you can take to the fifth floor, but if he truly has all this incriminating evidence in one place, he'll have plenty of guards and sentry mechs. The second you need to take out one of them, things will get exponentially harder." When he saw that Kasumi was looking at him quizzically, he elaborated. "Vita-Sensor Implants, probably the ones manufactured by Sirta. Once they detect abnormalities in the host's vitals, it transmits a short-distance alarm to alert the rest of security. I found them embedded on the hands of Vilmarc's men, as I was teaching his nephew some manners. I was lucky to get out of there before they could send backup."

"Those implants are expensive; Hector Vilmarc is a cautious man..." Kasumi observed, her voice showing a slight hint of disappointment.

"This building isn't some sprawling mansion where security teams are spread thin. You'll be hard-pressed to avoid all of them."

"So what do you suggest?"

Zaeed had Kasumi zoom out on the building and show the entire spaceport. He was silent for a few moments, a plan beginning to take shape in his mind.

"If we accept that setting off the implants is unavoidable, then we'll just have to set off as many as possible." Grinning wolfishly, he pointed a finger at the building's roof. "If the goods are on the fifth floor, then making your way down from the roof should be just as quick. If I passed over the building's roof in the shuttlecar, could you drop down with your tactical cloak, and make your way in?"

"The cloak wouldn't be perfect during the descent, but nobody on the ground should notice anything. If you didn't drop me from too high, I suppose I could make the fall. But why the roof?"

"Because when I start shooting, they'll think I'm trying to hijack a transport off Elysium. Hector's men know the price on my head, and they'll be tripping over themselves trying to take me in. Even if it doesn't pull all of the guards out of the tower, they'll probably move some upper-floor patrols down to the lower levels, just to be safe."

"That's reckless, even for you!" She shook her head. "How long do you think you can last in a firefight, all by yourself?"

"The landing pads are pretty far from the building." Casually, he motioned to the holographic display. "Sure, they'll be able to overrun my position with numbers – eventually. But you'll have a quicker go of it inside the building, **and** you'll be free to kick as much arse as you like without worrying about the implants. They'll assume all the alarm triggers have been caused by me."

"It's not how I usually do things." Kasumi crossed her arms and stared intently at the display, deep in thought.

"You play to your strengths, and I'll play to mine." Zaeed understood that introducing such a chaotic element to the mission was risky. He didn't doubt Kasumi's ability, but he knew that a distraction would speed up the operation immensely, and minimize the risk of her getting caught. But it was more than that. For months, he had been nursing a deep wound to his pride – incurred by having to hide from Hector Vilmarc, and exacerbated by Franco Antonelli's humiliation. He desperately needed to shoot someone.

"And once I get the data, I suppose it'll be on me to get you out of there in one piece?" Kasumi's lightly mocking tone stirred Zaeed from his reverie.

"It'll be just like old times," Zaeed assured her. And so, they began to work out the plan's specifics: refining the details and determining contingencies.

They would strike at dawn the following morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: A bit of a delay on this chapter, so I'm sorry about that. Many thanks to Commander Ray, Patient131071, and GreaterGoodIreland for the kind reviews so far! Additional thanks to Lady Amiee from Aria's Afterlife review tag for some concrit for me to chew on!

Bold indicates emphasis, italics indicates internal monologue.

~#~#~#~

"You doing all right out there?" Zaeed called into his helmet's communicator, nearly having to yell to make himself heard.

"I'd be doing a lot better without all the bugs in my teeth!" Kasumi shouted back, but it was difficult for Zaeed to hear over the howling wind coming through his earpiece.

"We're almost there, just hold on."

"Oh, great advice. 'Hold on', he says… " Kasumi muttered, but the gale drowned out her sarcasm.

The two of them had ridden together in the shuttlecar for most of the journey to the remote spaceport. Approximately one kilometer from their destination, they dropped below the trees so that Kasumi could hop out and fix herself to the bottom exterior of the vehicle. She wore gloves and kneepads that magnetically attached to undercarriage, as well as a backup harness to stay secure. The first stage of the plan was simple: Zaeed would pass over the tower that held the soon-to-be-stolen documents, allowing Kasumi to drop onto the roof.

As the vast stretch of forest ended, the verdant blur of treetops beneath the shuttle disappeared, indicating to Kasumi that the spaceport was finally in sight. In the cockpit, Zaeed began to pull back on the yoke, causing the craft to climb steadily. He also began to dial back on the vessel's speed – a deceleration slight enough that observers on the ground wouldn't notice, but enough to make Kasumi's descent as easy as possible.

"One minute to the drop," Zaeed announced as the shuttle reached the correct altitude. "We-… what the hell are they doing there?" Something up ahead had caught his eye.

"What's wrong?" Kasumi called back, alarmed by his sudden change in tone.

Zaeed cursed. "There's already a group of them on the landing pad."

There were four landing pads surrounding the tower. Two landing pads north of the tower were intended for non-spacefaring shuttlecars, with small rectangular spaces for parking. The two to the south were much larger, with enough space so that entire frigates could land. One such landing pad held several clusters of idle freighters and shipping crates, but the other large landing pad was completely empty – save for a group of ten armed guards and the cart they arrived on.

Zaeed's initial reaction was to worry that the group ahead was waiting for him. But this theory didn't quite make sense, for the fact they waited on the empty landing pad – and not the one with the cargo ships – suggested that they were waiting for somebody else.

"I thought you said that no ships were scheduled to land today?" asked Zaeed. It didn't seem as if Vilmarc's thugs were aware of the impending robbery, but the fact that there was a group already in position was a problem. The second stage of the plan revolved around Zaeed feigning an attempted hijacking of a cargo ship, thus providing a distraction for Kasumi. It was expected that reinforcements would come from the tower, but if there were armed men already on the landing pad, then things could quickly turn ugly.

"I already hacked into Elysium Flight Control, and there's nothing due to arrive at this location for nearly a week," Kasumi responded, a hint of uncertainty creeping into her voice. "So what do we do? Do we back off?"

"They've already seen us. If we pull out now, they'll be suspicious." Zaeed started to grind his teeth, an old habit of his when he was backed into a corner and needed to think. If a smuggler's cargo ship was reaching Elysium off-schedule, then it seemed likely that Hector Vilmarc with his illusion of legitimate business wasn't expecting it either. In fact, it was very possible that the tower personnel only found out when the ship entered the star system. The incoming ship was close – and that could be an opportunity.

"Well?" asked Kasumi.

"We stick to the plan. I've got this."

Kasumi chewed her bottom lip. She considered protesting, but there wasn't time to force Zaeed into revealing his improvised plan. She would just have to trust his judgment.

As they passed over the tower, Zaeed gave the signal and Kasumi detached herself. She twisted as she dropped, rolling as she hit the ground to break her fall. Her tactical cloak shimmered slightly on impact, but she managed to stay invisible.

"Zaeed, I hope you know what you're doing…" the thief muttered to herself. She activated her omni tool and started work on setting up a dampening field, to cut off communication from the tower that might soon call for help.

Within seconds of Kasumi's descent, there came the roar of engines from above. A medium-sized cargo ship burst through the clouds, its thrusters at full blast to control the speed of its landing. A slight grin played across Zaeed's lips; he was lucky enough to have good timing on his side, at least.

"Unidentified shuttlecraft: you are ordered pull off now, by the authority of Elysium Flight Control." A message from the tower buzzed over the shuttle's internal speakers. The spaceport was nearly deserted, probably to control the number of witnesses during such illegal transactions. Zaeed's presence was clearly unwelcome.

"It certainly took you boys long enough to react," Zaeed commented to himself wryly. He pressed a button on the dashboard, and did his best to mask his characteristic accent. "I'm here on the orders of Hector Vilmarc." With that piece of misinformation delivered, he proceeded to mute all further transmissions. Nobody at the tower would quite buy the excuse, but it was good to keep them guessing.

Zaeed landed the shuttlecar between two parked freighters, in a spot that would give him a perfect line of sight toward the adjacent landing pad. He hopped out and gave a casual wave at the group of armed thugs several hundred meters away, who merely stared back at him in confusion. But they had little time to ponder this unexpected arrival, for the incoming cargo ship had started to touch down, its thrusters kicking up gusts of wind as it landed.

Zaeed could hear the distant sound of an electric motor coming to life from the direction of the tower. A cart manned by three of Vilmarc's men was being sent to investigate Zaeed's presence, but the mercenary had plenty of time for what he planned. Within the shadows of the shuttlecar's interior, Zaeed prepared his sniper rifle.

The ship landed with its large cargo bay doors facing the group of waiting men. As the doors swung open, five lightly armed batarians stepped into the pale morning light. The leader of Vilmarc's group glanced once in Zaeed's direction before opening his mouth to speak. But if he intended a warning to mention Zaeed's unexpected presence, he wasn't given the chance.

The bullet took the lead batarian right in the center of his four eyes, throwing him backward in a fine mist of blood. Everybody froze, but the silence was short-lived. The batarians were the first to draw their weapons, and so three of Vilmarc's men went down before the other humans could react. Zaeed silently congratulated himself and loaded a fresh thermal clip into his rifle.

At such a close range with little to no cover, the firefight quickly turned bloody. But even though the batarians drew first, they had been outnumbered two to one at the start, and so quickly had to retreat to the safety of their ship. By the time the shooting stopped, only two batarians were able to limp back through the cargo bay doors, while only four of Vilmarc's men were left standing. One of the humans started pointing and motioning angrily in Zaeed's direction. But before they could plan a more deliberate assault, an ominous humming noise from the batarian cargo ship made them turn. A single turret extended from the top of the vessel, swiveled, and pointed directly at the four bewildered men.

GARDIAN laser systems were meant to defend ships from debris or small enemy vessels. Due to diffraction, they became less effective at long range, but at close range they were murderous against lightly armored targets.

The actual shot from the turret was too quick to see, but its effect was massive. The cart around which the four men had sheltered erupted in flame, scattering twisted pieces of metal in all directions. If there was anything left of Vilmarc's men amongst the debris, it was obscured by the thick black smoke that plumed upwards.

With one quick motion the turret repositioned itself again. This time it aimed at the cart speeding toward the landing pads, originally sent to investigate Zaeed's appearance. Upon seeing their comrades obliterated by the first laser strike, the cart attempted to swerve to the side, but it wasn't enough to fool a ship's targeting VI. In an instant, the vehicle transformed into an unrecognizable, charred hulk that spewed sparks as it skidded along the ground.

Zaeed kept his sniper rifle ready. The batarians wouldn't be suicidal enough to attack the tower to destroy what was officially Alliance property, and so there could only be one target left. The batarian ship had seen him land. And by now, they would've suspected a sniper.

"Bloody hell…" Zaeed was no coward, but he could feel a knot form and twist in his gut. Without the cold vacuum of space, GARDIAN lasers needed a few seconds to dissipate heat between shots, and then perhaps another second to charge its attack. In that brief window when the eye of the turret faced him, Zaeed would need to fire a single, perfect shot down the turret's barrel.

He started to grind his teeth once more. For him, time seemed to slow down, as every movement of the turret through his eyepiece seemed painfully drawn out. Zaeed kept one eye clenched shut while the other stared through the rifle's scope, ignoring the urge to blink so as not to miss a fraction of a second. And then it came: a single shift of the turret's head, a dull red glow from deep within the barrel, and a slight twitch of the finger to squeeze the trigger. The shot rang out.

Zaeed exhaled slowly, finally allowing himself to breathe. There was no terrible heat, no stench of smoldering metal or roasting flesh. A distant explosion sounded as the ship's turret overloaded with the energy it had been unable to discharge. The mercenary roared in triumph, laughing in exhilaration at his magnificent shot. With its sole weapon disabled, the batarian ship activated its thrusters once more – the captain evidently deciding to cut his losses and leave Elysium.

"You're crazy; you know that, right?" Kasumi's voice came through the communicator. She had been watching the entire sequence of events from the tower's roof.

Zaeed chuckled. "You should be good to go now. Grab Vilmarc's precious records, and then we can get the hell out of here." As the batarian ship ascended higher into the sky, dozens of vengeful guards streamed from the tower, crowding onto four-wheeled carts that sprung to life. "You might want to hurry though," added Zaeed. "I've stirred up a bit of a hornet's nest down here."

~#~#~#~

Kasumi's feet padded silently on the ground as she edged down another empty hallway. She halted briefly as she peeked around a corner to check for enemies, but found none. Zaeed's gamble had evidently paid off for the upper two floors were deserted. The thief kept her tactical cloak at the ready, but it hadn't been needed yet.

She worked her way down the building, dispatching the occasional guard with her stun baton or flashbang grenade. Most appeared distracted by the distant spectacle of Zaeed's firefight through the windows, and so she didn't need to employ special tricks to take them down.

As she slipped out of an air vent onto the fifth floor, she paused. This was the floor where records of Vilmarc's nefarious transactions should be kept. Kasumi moved cautiously, scanning with her omni tool to find the hidden rooms where all the illicit items were stored. Expecting that security here would be the highest, she kept her cloak up, taking care to hide whenever it needed to deactivate and recharge.

Eventually, Kasumi came upon what she was looking for. Upon overriding an electronic lock with her omni tool, a concealed door slid open, revealing a room nearly filled to capacity with crates and empty cages.

"Intended for slaves, no doubt." Kasumi spoke bitterly, eyeing the tiny cramped cages that an adult could barely fit into. A small part of her was grateful that Vilmarc didn't currently have any slaves in stock, for Kasumi didn't know if she could afford to free them and still carry out her mission. Shrugging off the unpleasant thoughts, she began to search through the room, looking for anything that resembled a computer where the records might be kept. The thief pried open a few crates, but found nothing of interest: just drugs, alien liquors, and data discs that held knock-off VI programs.

Kasumi drummed her fingers on one of the crates, irritated. The intel she had received from the Shadow Broker indicated that electronic records were kept off-network on the fifth floor at all times. Her own hacking of Vilmarc's internal communications seemed to verify this. But something seemed off. So far as she could tell, there were no guards on this floor.

She was just about to use her omni tool to scan the crates a second time, when a whirring noise sounded from the hallway outside. Kasumi paused, and activated her tactical cloak just as a single LOKI-class mech stepped into the doorway. She had swept the entirety of the floor for guards before entering the hidden storeroom. Still, it wasn't uncommon practice for mechs to emerge from alcoves in the walls to run periodic sweeps. Kasumi wasn't concerned – the ceilings were too low for the larger, deadlier YMIR mechs, and the cheap LOKI droids were fairly weak. Still cloaked, she pressed a series of commands on her omni tool, to hack and deactivate the android.

The mech twitched slightly, but did not power down. Instead, it took two more steps into the room.

"_Custom firmware? On a LOKI?" _Kasumi raised an eyebrow. She began to edge toward the side of the room, in an attempt to slowly flank the droid without losing her cloak's stability. LOKI mechs had a single thick cable along their spine – severing it would shut them down just as easily. But as Kasumi moved, the droid's head followed her. _"Oh, shit."_

She dove to the side and rolled behind a pile of crates, just as three stun darts flew past her – their trajectory so close that she could feel the breeze of their passing. They embedded themselves into the ground, smoking and crackling with electricity.

Kasumi drew her pistol and took a deep breath, reviewing the information she had learned in that brief encounter. The LOKI clearly had a number of aftermarket modifications. Sensors to detect cloaked targets were still experimental and wildly expensive, being able to detect minute distortions that the human eye could not. The custom firmware was another aggravating touch; she could probably find a way to hack the droid given time, but it would take too long. And then there was the shape of the mech – something about its torso seemed oddly bulky...

Darting out of cover, Kasumi fired two shots from her M-11 Suppressor, aiming at the droid's legs. To her dismay, all her shots deflected away harmlessly. She ducked back into cover before she could be hit by return fire.

"_Of __**course **__there would be kinetic barriers on that thing."_ Kasumi then swore, not just because of the shielding, but because she had taken a better look at the mech's torso. There was definitely an abnormal attachment built into its chest, with a small data port barely visible on its side. She cursed again. Hector Vilmarc had evidently chosen to store his records on the galaxy's deadliest LOKI mech.

Kasumi pulled out one of her flashbang grenades, but paused. The grenade would likely disable the mech, but the disruption it caused might scramble the data. Using a holographic decoy wouldn't work either; the droid's enhanced sensors would see through the ruse instantly. Kasumi needed a distraction to escape the dead-end storeroom, and she could think of only one option.

Suddenly, Kasumi lobbed her pistol in the general direction of the mech, as she would an actual grenade. She pressed a single command on her omni tool and ran.

The electronic hardware built into the pistol began to fizzle and overload, creating a disorienting shower of sparks directly in front of the droid's faceplate. Kasumi sped past, slamming a portable drive into the mech's data port as she sprinted. By the time the LOKI recovered and fired a few shots in her direction, the thief was already through the door and into the hallway.

And there she stopped, reactivated her tactical cloak, and stayed perfectly still. A heartbeat later, the droid burst from the hidden room, the data drive still jutting from its torso. The drive hummed quietly as it automatically extracted the information. With quiet whirring noises, the mech took a step forward in Kasumi's direction, paused, and then took another. By her estimate, she had approximately ten seconds left on her cloak before it would need to power down and recharge. Cloak distortions seen by the mech's sensors were caused by movement, and so if she stayed completely still and let it come to her, she might be able to disable her opponent up-close. It was risky, especially given the fact that she had discarded her only lethal weapon.

Seconds ticked by as the mech made its way closer and closer, stopping to scan the area after every movement. When it came within arm's reach of Kasumi, she resisted the urge to leap forward and snag the drive; she needed to be in a position where the stun gun wouldn't hit her so easily.

_"Just a few inches closer..." _But abruptly, there came an electronic whining noise as her tactical cloak started to vanish, its power pack depleted.

"Close enough!" Kasumi snatched the data drive with one hand while trying to knock away the droid's stun gun with the other. She couldn't hope to match the mech's strength, but the unexpected push caused its weapon to miss and fire inches to the left of her head. As she turned, she kicked the droid in its lower abdomen in an effort to knock it off balance. With the data fully secured, she started to sprint away. The droid regained its footing and prepared to fire, but a rapid beeping noise from the ground below made it pause and look down. A single flashbang grenade lay at its feet.

The world turned to a blinding white as the grenade detonated. Kasumi was facing away from the blast, and so was spared the full disorientation. However, the shockwave still caused her to stumble forward and slam her elbow painfully on the ground. She cursed as she sprung to her feet, but the LOKI mech had suffered far worse damage. It lay on its back, jerking its spindly limbs in erratic movements while giving off distorted electronic noises.

Pulling out a laser cutter and a grappling hook, Kasumi breathed a sigh of relief as she made her way to the nearest window. Now all she had to do was rescue Zaeed...

~#~#~#~

Zaeed ejected a smoking thermal clip from his assault rifle as he felt in his pockets for a replacement. He eventually found one, but noted that he was dangerously low. As for power packs to charge his kinetic shields, he was completely out.

The mercenary had long since abandoned his sniper's perch at the shuttlecar. Things had gone well at first: Vilmarc's thugs had foolishly tried to rush his position in their jeeps, but a few sniped drivers and crashed vehicles made them reconsider. They started to duck behind the carts providing cover fire, while the drivers controlled the accelerators and brakes with their hands. They had also begun to spread out, two of the vehicles going wide in an effort to flank him. And so, they began creeping in on Zaeed's location, meter by meter. Eventually, Zaeed had been forced to pull back and play a deadly game of cat-and-mouse amongst the small labyrinth of freighters and shipping crates.

"C'mon Kasumi, where the hell are you?" Zaeed quietly snarled the question to nobody in particular as he poked his head around the side of a cargo ship. The dampening field surrounding the tower was still operational, and so communication between the two was cut off.

In a small clearing ahead, two of Vilmarc's men were edging forward slowly, assault rifles raised. Zaeed fired his own weapon in a short burst, followed by a toss of one of his inferno grenades. Both enemies reacted quickly enough to avoid the incendiary device, but at least one suffered a bullet wound to the arm that made him cry out. Instead of continuing the assault, Zaeed used the grenade's distraction to pull back and sprint in a different direction. Gunfire was a sure way to attract the attention of the others, and the key to survival was to keep them guessing. But this was a tactic that would not work forever; with every bullet fired, enemies converged ever closer on his position.

"There!" A deep voice called out as Zaeed skidded behind a stack of large shipping crates. A hail of bullets came a second later, tearing small chunks from the metal that sheltered the beleaguered mercenary. Zaeed swore as his head darted back and forth, gauging his surroundings. He was pinned down.

Zaeed found himself between a single stack of crates and the broad side of an idle cargo vessel. He was well protected from gunfire and couldn't be easily flanked, but if he were to dart to either side of the stack he would be exposed. His kinetic shields were far too depleted to survive such a gambit. More shouts sounded as the rest of Vilmarc's men began to appear, taking up positions in cover nearby. A few of them shouted taunts at Zaeed, punctuating their insults with bullets that ricocheted off the open ground.

"Zaeed Massani, I assume?" boomed the deep voice from before. Zaeed guessed that this was the enemy leader. "It's over. Toss out your weapons and we'll bring you in – unharmed."

Zaeed yelled back with what he thought of the offer, using some particularly colorful words.

"Either you come out or we're coming in," the deep voice continued, unperturbed by the foul language. "You have no other options. You're all alone here." His words hung in the air.

"You might want to shut your eyes." A familiar voice buzzed over Zaeed's communicator, breaking the silence. Zaeed gave a wolfish grin; he was not, in fact, alone.

A shuttlecar swooped into sight, with the passenger-side door wide open. It was a vehicle that had been parked on a smaller landing pad to the north of the tower, and so for a moment Vilmarc's thugs assumed it was their backup. They immediately realized their mistake as flashbang grenades began to rain down on them from above.

Zaeed scrambled up the stack of shipping crates, pausing to toss a few grenades as he reached the apex. A few enemies attempted to return fire, but their aim was wildly imprecise due to the blinding effects of the flash. The rest of the group broke and stumbled away in retreat from the unexpected onslaught. After yelling some final insults in their direction, Zaeed leapt into the passenger seat of the waiting shuttlecar. Kasumi glanced at his disheveled appearance and smirked.

"You look like hell."

"If you're so damn concerned about my appearance, then you might've gotten here a bit sooner," Zaeed retorted, but returned the smile.

"Finesse takes time," Kasumi responded simply. She tossed him the data drive and pressed hard on the accelerator. The rapid change in speed pushed the pair back into their seats as the shuttlecar zoomed away, leaving the spaceport behind.

~#~#~#~

"So how much is the Shadow Broker paying you for this information, anyway?" Zaeed asked as their vehicle darted over the forests of Elysium. They were close to home – approximately thirty minutes away from Illyria and the Oceanus Hotel.

"Why? Are you expecting a cut?" Kasumi teased.

"Well, why don't we compare body counts from this mission and see who's earned what?" The mercenary patted his sniper rifle proudly.

Kasumi chuckled and shook her head. "We can discuss business later. First, I'm thinking we get back to the hotel and order some room service – a proper celebration for a job well done."

"Trying to get me drunk before you negotiate terms?" Zaeed questioned accusingly. "Clever woman…"

Kasumi started to respond, but was cut off by a beeping red alarm from the dashboard. Her eyes widened as she recognized it as a proximity alert. "I think we've got compa-"

An explosion tore through the rear engines of the shuttlecar, sending the vehicle spiraling down into the treetops below.


	4. Chapter 4

Zaeed tasted blood. As he regained consciousness, his mismatched eyes opened slowly and blinked to bring the world back into focus. The lighting inside the shuttle was dim, for the windows of the vehicle seemed to be smeared with dirt or mud. Zaeed unbuckled the straps of his seat and reached for the handle of the shuttle's passenger-side door. It took several tries to force the door open, but eventually the dented piece of metal began to budge.

Stumbling out of the shuttle, Zaeed winced. His entire body felt like one giant bruise, although nothing appeared to be broken. He gave himself a quick examination, but as far as he could tell, he didn't seem to have any serious internal injuries. The taste of blood in his mouth originated from his tongue, which he had apparently bitten during the crash.

"_At least that's one bit of luck," _Zaeed reflected bitterly.

He glanced around the crash site. The midday sun was peeking through the forest canopy, illuminating the long scar the shuttlecraft had carved into the dirt upon its impact. A steep incline in the forest floor had ended the shuttle's precarious journey, causing the nose of the vehicle to bury itself into the hillside. Evidently, they had glanced off several tree trunks during the crash, but had not collided with one head-on – this was also lucky.

The rear of the craft was a blackened and twisted abomination of metal. Zaeed studied the damage, and through his years of mercenary experience was able to tell that some kind of missile had scored a direct hit. And yet the missile's destructive power was fairly weak. Whoever had fired the weapon did not intend to kill the shuttle's occupants…

"Kasumi?" Zaeed called out to his partner, but there was no response. He hurried to the driver's side of the vehicle and wrenched open the door.

Kasumi was still strapped into her seat, but did not move. Zaeed called her name again as he felt her neck for a pulse, breathing a sigh of relief as she stirred slightly in her unconsciousness. However, when he took a step back to look at her fully, the mercenary cursed savagely.

A jagged scrap of metal had evidently broken free during the crash, lodging itself in Kasumi's right thigh. It wasn't a large piece, and the suction of the flesh had prevented all but a slight trickle of blood to leak free. Zaeed gingerly tried to feel around the damaged area, but the pain caused Kasumi to cry out, though she still did not wake.

Zaeed was about to start looking for a med-kit when the roar of engines sounded from above. A large shadow loomed above him, obscuring the sun briefly as it glided slowly over the treetops. It was difficult to tell what kind of craft it was, but it was at least several times larger than the shuttle. Zaeed cursed again and darted back to the passenger side of the vehicle, this time looking for his weapons.

The mercenary knew it would take time for the large craft to find a place to touch down, but every second was precious. He would need pull Kasumi from the shuttle, staunch the wound with medi-gel, and then carry her far enough away from the crash site. The capital city of Illyria was still distant – especially on foot – but they might find a place to hide and wait for their pursuers to give up.

He dug out his sniper rifle and assault rifle, laying them on top of the shuttlecar's roof. A med-kit soon followed, pulled out from underneath the seat. But then, Zaeed groaned as he rediscovered the data drive they had stolen from the spaceport. Lifting the small aluminum case, he could hear the sound of graphene and fiberglass shards rattling inside.

"_All that goddamn effort…" _Zaeed shoved the ruined drive into his pocket and circled back around to Kasumi. He opened the med-kit on the forest floor and started to lift her gently from the seat, but he stopped after a moment – something was clearly wrong.

Kasumi groaned in pain, though that was not what halted Zaeed. He took a firm hold of her injured thigh and slowly attempted to move it, but her leg wouldn't budge. Zaeed took a closer look and saw the problem. The thin piece of shrapnel stuck in her leg had pierced all the way through her thigh, and into the seat below. There was little blood by the exit wound, meaning she wasn't in any immediate danger, but removing her from the shuttle would be difficult.

Seconds after Zaeed's grim realization, the sound of the mysterious ship's engine in the distance suddenly cut off. The noise had always been there in the background after the ship first appeared, but Zaeed had blocked it out as he focused on his work. However, its sudden absence made the danger register in his mind. The ship had finally landed…

If they could not escape together, Zaeed reasoned that setting an ambush was the next best option. He snatched up his assault rifle, brought it to his shoulder to test the weapon, and was greeted with a blinking red status light. The sniper rifle gave the same indicator, and Zaeed fought the urge to snap the now-useless weapon over his knee. He had been unable to fully secure the weapons during their escape from the spaceport, and evidently the crash's impact had caused damage. The grenades he had left appeared to be working, but they were few, and one could not win a firefight with only such weapons.

Zaeed started to grind his teeth, desperately searching for an answer. But as he formed and rejected ideas, the uncomfortable truth became clear: the situation was futile. There only one option left. He would need to leave Kasumi behind.

He considered trying to wake her, but reluctantly dismissed it – what point would that serve? Did he want to say goodbye? Did he want her forgiveness? He could hear shouts now, frightfully close.

"I'm… sorry." Zaeed stole one final look at Kasumi, his face heavy with guilt. Then he ran.

As he sprinted, his mind rushed to justify the abandonment. All mercenaries operated like this – if somebody was trapped or wounded and rescue was too risky, then it was understood that they would be left behind.

"_But Kasumi isn't just some mercenary. She's your partner." _A voice in the back of Zaeed's mind condemned him for his weakness. They had both survived the mission through the Omega-4 Relay. She had saved his life twice – once by freeing him from Franco Antonelli's mansion, and once at the spaceport when he had been pinned down. But what could he possibly do in such a situation?

Zaeed scrambled up the hill into which the shuttle had crashed, but then lingered, crouching behind a tree. This was against his better judgment, though Zaeed had to know: who had attacked them? Within minutes, he could see figures in combat suits emerging from amongst the trees. There were at least a dozen, each wielding assault rifles and moving warily toward the crash site. They were all human, ruling out the possibility that these were the batarians from earlier in the morning who might seek revenge.

One of the armed men approached the crashed shuttle, finding the unconscious Kasumi. Zaeed's fingers inadvertently, painfully dug into the rough bark of the tree that served as his shelter; at any moment, he expected the sound of a gunshot to signal the end of his partner's life. But that did not happen. Instead, the man called two of his comrades over, and had them start extricating Kasumi. The man pulled off his helmet, revealing a face that Zaeed instantly recognized.

"I should've snapped your neck when I had the chance," Zaeed snarled quietly.

It was Stefan Vilmarc: nephew of the crime lord Hector Vilmarc, and the man Zaeed had so savagely beaten to set off these unfortunate events. Zaeed watched as Stefan's men pulled Kasumi from the vehicle, patched her wound with medi-gel, and then proceeded to restrain her with magnetic shackles. Zaeed was powerless to do anything, and hated himself for it. But he could take some small consolation in the fact that he now had a name, a target for his hatred: Vilmarc.

He pulled away from the crash site and turned northward. It would be a long trek through the forest back to Illyria, but anger would fuel him – as it had done for much of his life.

~#~#~#~

Kasumi sat in the middle of an empty, dimly-lit room. Her wrists were chained to the armrests of a chair, while her ankles were held tight against its legs. She fidgeted, but the chains were secure, and the chair legs remained firmly bolted to the ground. It was a surprisingly crude prison, but she supposed that had been the point – her captors were undoubtedly wary of her penchant for hacking and disrupting electronics.

Her thigh throbbed with pain. Medi-gel had been applied to the wound, but it was a sparse amount – enough to stop the bleeding, but not quite enough to fully dull the agony. However, there was something worse than that: a feeling of nakedness and despair. Kasumi still wore her black and silver outfit, but the hood had been pulled back to fully reveal her face. In the corner of the room, she could see a small camera pointed directly at her, quietly watching her every feature. There was a dull pain and a rivulet of crimson down her left arm, as if somebody had been taking blood samples. For so many years, Kasumi had endeavored to stay anonymous. But now, all that work was useless – her likeness, her DNA, her very **identity** was being harvested and recorded.

A door behind her slid open, and Kasumi could hear the sound of a single person walking into the room. She struggled to twist her body and see who had entered.

"Kasumi Goto…" A man's calm voice echoed over steady footsteps. "To simply know your name is a great achievement." He stopped at the edge of her periphery.

"Who's there?" Kasumi asked, unable to get a clear look at her captor.

The man ignored the question. "Many powerful men and women across the galaxy have had their valuables stolen, and are left only with a blurred shadow on a scrambled security recording. A few manage a name, but rarely anything more. And yet here I stand, with the legendary shadow chained before me." He circled around to her front and stopped, stooping over as he studied her face intently. "You're certainly prettier than I would have expected."

"Hector Vilmarc..." Kasumi recognized the face from her files. He wasn't an impressive or dangerous-looking man, but she knew his reputation. Looks could be deceiving.

"In the flesh." Hector gave a wan smile as he responded. "How's the leg?"

"It's too late for you," Kasumi shot back defiantly. "Zaeed's got the data drive now, and soon your entire criminal empire will be ruined." This was a bluff, for she wasn't certain about any of this. She had awoken briefly as they were apprehending her, and Zaeed had been nowhere in sight. There was the possibility that Zaeed had been killed… but that was not something she wanted to consider.

Hector nodded slowly. "Zaeed Massani will be found eventually," he said grudgingly. "But even when I am gone, my contacts have been well-paid to make sure he does not leave the planet alive."

"Gone?"

"Yes, gone. Smuggling – particularly human trafficking – is a risky business while in Alliance space." Hector turned away from Kasumi and started to pace back and forth. "Incredibly rewarding from a monetary perspective, but risky all the same. It allowed me to amass a great deal rather quickly… but I always knew that one day I might have to step away. I've long prepared for this eventuality."

"Where are you running? Are you hoping your batarian friends will take you in?" Kasumi asked, her voice full of scorn.

"Batarians? Oh, certainly not." Hector shook his head emphatically. "Especially not after that stunt you two pulled at the spaceport. Most likely somewhere quiet in the Terminus Systems for a time while I assume a new identity. Then… Illium, I suppose. I assume you've been there before – how is the local cuisine?"

"If you don't need me as leverage to save your… 'business', then why bother keeping me around?"

"Do you expect me to kill you?" Hector chuckled. "As you might imagine in my line of work, it's vital to be able to gauge an individual's worth. And you, Kasumi, are worth a fortune." He gave a sinister grin. "All those treasures you have stolen over the years… I'd be curious to know where they are. Care to tell me?"

"You'll get nothing from me." Her eyes narrowed.

"As cliché as it may sound... everybody talks eventually."

Without warning, Hector pulled what appeared to be a black stun baton from his pocket. But as he pressed it into her shoulder, Kasumi screamed in pain. The agonizing sensation was hard to describe: one moment it felt like her skin was being burned away, while the next it was as if knives were slicing into her. When Hector finally pulled the device back, Kasumi was left gasping for breath, although her shoulder appeared untouched.

"A curious device, is it not?" Hector questioned, examining the item as he held it in his palm. "For centuries, our people have had to inflict crude physical damage to incur pain. But if you can activate those nerves directly, then there's no need to draw blood or cause any physical damage whatsoever. It's more humane, really."

"Bastard…" Kasumi wheezed through ragged breaths.

Hector shrugged. "They say torture is an ineffective means of gathering information. And in some respect, they are correct. But imagine this scenario: say you require a keypad combination, yet only have the man who knows it. If you have an infinite number of attempts to enter the combination correctly, then torture is most effective. The man may defy you at first, but with no end in sight he will soon submit to the pain. This is where we find ourselves now, you and I. You may give me false locations at first, but I have all the time and patience in the galaxy. Eventually, you **will** tell me what I want to know."

Kasumi said nothing, and to her relief, Hector slipped the baton back into his pocket. He took out a handkerchief and wiped gently at the corners of Kasumi's eyes, which had inadvertently watered at the onset of pain.

"As soon as I am satisfied that you have told me everything, we will be done." Hector spoke in a dull, matter-of-fact voice. "There are plenty out there who will pay for scraps: fingerprints, facial scans, and DNA – clues as to the legendary Kasumi's identity. Then, once that well has run dry, I'm sure I can find somebody willing to buy you in full." Hector straightened and motioned to the door. "But for now, I have an exodus to oversee. In the next day or so, we'll be on a ship, and you and I will have plenty of time to talk." With a final pat on her shoulder, he started back toward the exit.

"He'll kill you." Kasumi's quiet voice echoed a heartbeat before Hector could step through the door, forcing him to turn. "Run... hide... it won't matter – he'll kill you. A bullet to the head doesn't even stop him." She gave a knowing smile. "In fact, you'd be better off if I broke free and got the job done first. It'll be more humane, really."

~#~#~#~

It was night on Elysium by the time Zaeed made it to the fringes of the vast capital city. He was covered in dirt and sweat by then, and would have killed for a drink of water. But he needed somewhere safe to hide, in case enemies thought to look for him in the parts of Illyria bordering the great forest. Zaeed came upon a parked shuttlecar which he promptly hacked into, using some programs Kasumi had preloaded onto his omni-tool.

As he zoomed into the city's sparse late-night traffic, he decided to head to The Oceanus. Kasumi's hotel suite was likely to be the safest place to hide and plan his next move, due to the fact that nobody else knew she had lived there. Zaeed wasn't quite sure what he could do – not only was he ignorant of where Vilmarc was keeping Kasumi, he couldn't possibly hope to rush into a compound of armed guards, all alone with guns blazing. His reckless tactic this morning had only succeeded thanks to Kasumi's speed, and her extracting him once the robbery was complete.

Zaeed pulled off from the flow of traffic and started the vehicle's climb towards The Oceanus' roof, where the private landing pad led down into the penthouse suite. But as he approached the small pad, a recorded voice message sounded through the shuttle's internal speakers.

"Welcome to The Oceanus. Please activate your guest IFF before landing."

Zaeed slammed his fist in frustration on the dashboard. He had forgotten that the hotel's most luxurious suite had a security system that prevented unwanted guests from landing. If he tried to land without the properly transmitted frequency, then a mass effect field would prevent him from taking off again, while security would be sent up to investigate. Zaeed highly doubted he could talk his way out of trouble. He was just about to pull off when the message sounded again.

"Welcome to the Oceanus. Please act-" The message suddenly cut off, interrupted by a burst of static. "Guest signal received – you may now land. Please enjoy your stay at The Oceanus."

Zaeed glanced around warily, unsure of what had just happened. He considered pulling away from what might end up being a trap, but he was exhausted and had nowhere else to run. The shuttle touched down gently and Zaeed jumped out holding his assault rifle. His weapon was still broken, but it might serve as a deterrent for anybody that might wait inside.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the hotel suite as Zaeed and Kasumi had left it. Zaeed moved silently from room to room with his weapon raised, but ultimately found himself alone. Grabbing the nearest bottle of booze he could find, he sat heavily on the couch and prepared to drown his misery.

The windows of the suite – which Kasumi had mentioned to actually be high-resolution screens – flickered briefly, interrupting the view of the midnight cityscape. Zaeed caught a glimpse of this movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see the screen flicker a second time.

In an instant, the room went dark as every screen simultaneously shut off. A heartbeat later, they came back to life, but they now displayed something new. Each section showed the same image: a shadowy figure against a dark gray backdrop, its outlines shifting and ill-defined to leave only a vague sense of some humanoid silhouette.

"Zaeed Massani," the image spoke, its voice masked by characteristic distortion – one that Zaeed had heard before.

"Shadow Broker..." Zaeed answered, instinctively getting to his feet.

"I understand you've encountered trouble. Kasumi Goto has been taken prisoner by Hector Vilmarc." The Shadow Broker's computer modulation forced the words into a flat tone of voice, drowning any semblance of emotion that may have existed.

"Yeah I know, I was there," Zaeed retorted irritably. "What I want to know is how the hell they caught onto us so quickly. Smells like a set up to me."

"There... are always many variables. We failed to consider a man you are no doubt familiar with: Mr. Charles Davies."

"Franco Antonelli's lawyer?" Zaeed's brow furrowed as he remembered the man he had tackled and beaten during Kasumi's robbery of the mansion. "What the hell does he have to do with anything?"

"I've intercepted communications between him and Hector Vilmarc. It would seem that his hatred for you overcame his loyalty to Franco Antonelli, for he warned the Vilmarc organization that Kasumi was on Elysium and allied with yourself. The Vilmarc organization has only a handful of locations that would appeal to a thief and a vengeful mercenary, and so reinforcements were sent out. It was too late to prevent your robbery, but they were able to intercept you in the air." The Shadow Broker paused, and a beeping noise came from Zaeed's omni-tool. "I have gathered more information. You will find-"

"Hang on a bloody minute," Zaeed interrupted angrily. "None of this sits right with me. First, you fail to tell us that the batarians were making a surprise visit to the spaceport, and then you miss the fact that Vilmarc kept his files stored on some killer mech."

"My intel cannot foresee every-"

"Then, you want me to believe that bastard Davies would betray his employer by warning their rival. And you know what? Maybe I could understand that the intel was incomplete. And **maybe** I could believe that Davis hates me enough to pass along a message to Vilmarc. But you know what I don't understand? All this time we've been talking, you haven't said a single thing about the data records you asked us to steal. It was the focus of the whole damn mission, and you haven't even mentioned it once." Zaeed's eyes narrowed with suspicion as he spoke. "The data drive is broken in case you were wondering, and you'll be lucky to salvage even a fraction of the data."

The Shadow Broker paused, seemingly caught off guard. "I take the status of my assets very seriously."

"Like hell you do," Zaeed scoffed. "I've worked for you before. So long as you got what you wanted, anything and everything was expendable. I'm no fool – I've never fully trusted you. But at least it was always about the objective. Now, I don't what to think."

"You think I'm conspiring against you? Who do you think informed Kasumi of Franco's prothean bracelet? I pushed her in your direction, knowing she would find you and free you from captivity."

"Doesn't matter. Why should you care if I was caged up as a pet in some damn mansion? I'm good, but not worth that kind of trouble – not to you anyway. I'll help Kasumi if I can, but I'll be damned before I trust any intel you give me."

Zaeed's words hung in the air. The Shadow Broker was silent for a few moments, seeming to carefully consider what to say or do next. Finally, the image flickered again, and Zaeed's mouth gaped in disbelief. The standing figure of Liara T'Soni appeared on the screen.

"You and I may have only met briefly, but Shepard has always trusted me. I hope that counts for something now." The voice distortion had also disappeared, leaving behind Liara's true voice: one full of earnestness and caring.

"I don't understand..." Zaeed blinked in confusion.

"I am the new Shadow Broker; Shepard and I dispatched the previous holder of that title several months ago," Liara explained. "And I am truly sorry that my intel for the spaceport mission was lacking. I… am still new to this. There is always so much to deal with now."

"So what was the point of all this?" Zaeed asked accusingly, although much of his hostility from before had abated. "For somebody so interested in our well-being, you nearly got me and Kasumi killed."

"Being the Shadow Broker and maintaining a galactic information network can sometimes involve… unsavory actions. I learned of Hector Vilmarc's human trafficking and for once, just once, I wanted to do something good by shutting him down. But I underestimated him." Liara's wide eyes looked down sadly, burdened by shame. "You and Kasumi are part of Shepard's crew. There is a storm coming, and one day soon Shepard will need you – all of you. I aim to make sure that you are safe, that we are all ready when that day comes. I want to help you rescue Kasumi."

~#~#~#~

Author's Note: Brief torture scene in there, but considering it's some form of a 'pain-stick', I tried to make it relatively tame. This chapter sort of gave me an idea for a spin-off fic, with Liara's struggles in becoming the new Shadow Broker and protecting Shepard's crew from the shadows. *shrug* We'll see…


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Ugh, I know it's been a long time for such a relatively short chapter, so I apologize. Life can be hectic….

**Bold **indicates emphasis, _Italics _indicates internal monologue.

~#~#~#~

In the bathroom of Kasumi's suite, the mirror reflected an unusual sight. The anomaly was hard to characterize – it was as if a pocket of the air itself was a liquid, constantly shifting and distorting the light that passed through it. After several seconds, an electronic whining noise sounded, slowing and deepening in pitch until it finally died out. The odd shimmer vanished, replaced by the sudden appearance of Zaeed Massani.

"Damn it." The mercenary glowered at his reflection in the mirror. He had made progress with Kasumi's tactical cloak – he could now remain invisible for the entirety of the power pack's charge. But tactical cloaks needed careful tuning to an individual's unique form, and Zaeed judged he was a head taller and at least thirty kilograms heavier than Kasumi. It was easy to maintain a cloak's stability while remaining perfectly still, but with Zaeed's bulkier frame, there was a telltale shimmer that he could not dispel. Resetting and synchronizing the cloak was a possibility, but Zaeed didn't have the faintest idea on how to do so, and he could only guess on how long it would take to perfect.

Trying to move with the cloak, however, presented an even more frustrating challenge. Kasumi had once described the necessity for 'fluid, practiced motion'; jarring movements could disrupt the field and cause the cloak to fail entirely. During his initial attempts, Zaeed had been unable to walk more than three paces before the aegis vanished. After several hours, he could manage the entirety of the cloak's charge, but only with frequent stopping and starting when it seemed like the imperfect invisibility would fail.

Zaeed glanced at his omni-tool to check the time and sighed. He had perhaps an hour or so more to practice, but he had the feeling that this would make little difference. But while he was frustrated and disappointed with his lack of progress, Zaeed did have to acknowledge that the cloak would provide some benefit. An enemy could overlook a cloaked Zaeed, provided that the enemy wasn't looking too closely and there was good distance between them. Seeing an amorphous, strange shape could also provide confusion, giving the mercenary precious seconds to avoid a hail of gunfire. Silent takedowns from up close however, would require an extraordinary amount of luck.

Zaeed trudged into one of the bedrooms, taking inventory of everything he had laid out on the bed. He had repaired his assault rifle, but the sniper rifle was beyond his skill to fix. A handful of his inferno grenades sat on the bed as well, the cores deactivated to ensure that the entire suite didn't go up in smoke. The rest belonged to Kasumi.

Several flashbang grenades sat next to the incendiary ones. One of Kasumi's spare M11-Suppressor pistols lay in a black holster, with gold lettering inscribed into the leather, spelling the name 'Keiji'. A silver stun baton was present as well, bringing a grim smile to the man's face as recalled that day in Franco Antonelli's mansion not too long ago. About a dozen other gadgets lay strewn on top of the lush duvet: laser cutters, grappling hooks, automated hacking devices, and a few others Zaeed couldn't even identify. Each was compact and perfectly capable of fitting into a small pouch or hooked into a belt – a vital quality for somebody trying to move quickly and quietly.

Zaeed scanned the assortment. Many of Kasumi's items were a little too nonlethal for his tastes, but he supposed it would behoove a thief to not leave too many bodies in her wake. Aside from his own gear, he wasn't too familiar with these items. But he and Liara had a plan, and the mercenary would take anything that could give him the edge in a fight.

All that remained was to wait for Liara, and hope she succeeded in her part of the plan…

~#~#~#~

Liara paced back and forth, mumbling the half-rehearsed words. As she walked, Glyph hovered after her, never straying more than a few meters away. At first, she had found this setting to be an annoyance, and had been on the verge of disabling it. But considering how infrequently Feron was able to visit between assignments, the asari woman found herself constantly delaying the decision. Liara wondered if the drone's persistent tracking was a window into the life of her predecessor – as she had soon come to realize, the life of the Shadow Broker was one of constant solitude and loneliness.

"_This is no time for self-pity," _Liara admonished herself, brushing aside such thoughts. She then strode to the main communications station in the room's center. Now was the time to act.

It took nearly a full minute before there came a response to her communication request. This wasn't surprising – the ship she was contacting was doing its best to lie low. However, when the name 'Shadow Broker' was uttered, many chose to listen.

Three batarians appeared on the screen. As usual, Liara didn't transmit an actual video feed of herself, only allowing the heavily distorted audio of her voice to pass through.

"I don't like to be kept waiting," Liara said slowly. One of the batarians flinched.

"We're a little short-handed here." The batarian in the center – Liara assumed him to be the captain – motioned to his shipmates. "With all due respect, I'm not sure what you want from us. We're just a cargo ship traveling from Elysium to-"

"You know who I am, so don't take me for a fool," Liara replied coldly. "You're batarian slavers, licking your wounds after a deal went bad on Elysium. Hector Vilmarc ambushed you shortly after your ship landed at one of his spaceports, and drove you from the planet."

"But not before we slaughtered a good few of those double-crossing bastards!" The batarian on the left boasted arrogantly. Liara smiled to herself, glad that the batarians were unaware that Zaeed was the one who had actually ambushed them.

"We would've torched them all if it weren't for that damn sniper," the batarian on the right complained. "Nobody should've been able to take out a GARDIAN laser like that..."

"Quiet!" The batarian captain silenced both of his men with a loud bark of his voice. He turned back to his viewscreen. "So you know the details of what happened. Perhaps you can fill me in on **why** it happened."

"Hector Vilmarc betrayed you because he is leaving the slave trade," Liara lied deftly. "But Hector is nothing if not greedy… he thought he could ambush you and take the payment by force. This failed, of course. However, he has other plans. As we speak, he is liquidating all his assets on Elysium and preparing to flee this sector of the galaxy entirely."

The captain's two subordinates started to grumble in disgust, but a single look from their leader promptly silenced them. However, he too looked irritated. "So… why are you coming to us? It's a shame you're being so free with information now, when earlier news of Vilmarc's plans could have saved lives."

"_The lives of slavers," _Liara thought bitterly. "Such things are not my concern. But the reason I come to you now is the same reason I have provided this information freely. I have a job that needs doing. One of my operatives was captured by Hector Vilmarc and I require her extraction. It appears we share a mutual enemy."

"I see..." The batarian captain nodded slowly. "I have two other ships under my command, waiting just through the relay – but I suppose you know that too. Let's assume I accept your job… what can I expect in return?"

"That depends entirely on you," said Liara. "I know the reason why you came to Vilmarc's spaceport early. You are behind schedule, and Mal'Gurat is displeased." The asari woman watched with satisfaction as the three batarians winced and looked at each other uncomfortably.

After Zaeed and Kasumi's heist had nearly failed due to the batarian's untimely arrival, Liara had sent Glyph digging for information. The batarian slave trade was basically run by a handful of powerful individuals – one of whom was a man named Mal'Gurat. These key batarians had a number of ship's captains beneath them, each of whom was required to deliver a quota of slaves at fixed intervals. Although slavery was a legal aspect of batarian society, the money associated with it was so large that men like Mal'Gurat were often willing to use decidedly illegal means of punishing captains who failed to deliver.

"You require slaves for Mal'Gurat," Liara continued. "And you will find these slaves on Elysium. Hector Vilmarc keeps a secluded base of operations in one of the southern mountain ranges. I will give you forged credentials to access the planet so you may reach his base, and there you shall take both your revenge and his men as your slaves."

"How many are for the taking down there?"

"There should be at least fifty that work for Hector Vilmarc at this location – although not all of them are combat-proficient enough to provide resistance," Liara replied. "There might even be a few leftover slaves that Vilmarc was unable to sell. I will provide you with the schematics for this base, as well as one of my other operatives. He will ensure that everything runs smoothly, and be responsible for the extraction of my captured operative."

The batarians were quiet for several moments as they discussed the proposition amongst themselves. Liara drummed her fingers nervously on the edge of the command station, waiting for an answer. She and Zaeed needed the batarians – there were far too many enemies for Zaeed to fight alone, and his proficiency in stealth was lacking. They both would have preferred reaching out to a mercenary group, but Hector still believed that his operation was compromised by the spaceport robbery and was rushing to leave the planet. Once he passed through the mass relay, he would vanish. It would take far too much time to track him – time in which Kasumi's fate would be uncertain. Liara reasoned she had presented her case well enough: the batarians needed slaves and desperately wanted revenge against Hector Vilmarc. All they had to do was say yes…

"We respectfully decline the offer," the captain said, folding his arms.

Liara's tapping fingers suddenly transformed into a clenched fist. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "...You refuse?"

"It is extremely risky for us to attack a base on Elysium," the lead batarian explained. "And we now think that there is separate opportunity for us."

"We'll snatch that lying bastard right up and skin him alive!" The batarian on the left cackled with glee, but his mirth was cut short by a vicious jab to his ribs. His captain stared at him with a look of utter fury.

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of Liara's stomach. Had she miscalculated? As she closed her eyes, her mind frantically searched for anything she might have missed. Without her falsified credentials, the batarians wouldn't be able to attack Vilmarc on Elysium itself. And once Vilmarc was through the mass relay, it would be nearly impossible for the batarians to track him. That left only one possibility: an attempted hijacking of Vilmarc's ship **before **he reached the relay.

Such things were possible, but were rarely carried out due to the extreme risk. The attacking ship would need to come alongside its victim, fix itself to the hull, and attempt a breach using laser cutters. The corridors of the attacked ship would become a scene of carnage, as the close-quarters firefight claimed lives on both sides. This would mean significantly fewer slaves for the batarians… but that might no longer be their main concern.

Liara cursed silently to herself. She saw now that she had overplayed her hand in letting the batarians know about Vilmarc's prisoner. Doubtless, they planned to turn Kasumi over to Mal'Gurat, who would instantly understand the worth of an operative working for the Shadow Broker. He would likely try to extort as much money out of Liara as possible, or worse: sell Kasumi to the highest bidder. And if they discovered Kasumi's identity as the galaxy's most notorious thief, this latter outcome became much more likely...

"I hope you're not foolish enough to attempt a hijacking there in the Vetus star system." Liara spoke, the lie already taking shape in her head. "The Systems Alliance learned its lesson after the Skyllian Blitz. Small, automated buoys were set up throughout the system to keep an eye out for suspicious activity. Sensing a cluster of ships remaining stationary at the edge of the system certainly qualifies. In fact, as we speak, your ongoing presence on the dark side of Gilead is probably raising a few concerns…"

"Well, we-"

"I gave you the solution you require," Liara continued. "And you may choose whether or not to accept it, but do not think for a moment that this ends without the safe extraction of my operative – into **my **possession, nobody else's." She paused and then spoke slowly, giving her words emphasis. "I am the Shadow Broker – never forget that."

~#~#~#~

"Batarians and I have never really gotten along too well."

Zaeed stood in the middle of a forest clearing, a few kilometers south of Illyria. It was early – so early that the only the slightest tinge of light gray in the east hinted at the dawn. Zaeed knew that he should have gotten some sleep, but instead he had elected to spend the final midnight hours studying schematics. The building plans of Vilmarc's mountainside base were vague, and gave little indication as to where prisoners might be kept. However, it was all they had to work with, and Zaeed was determined to commit every last detail to memory.

"You won't have to deal with them for too long." Liara's voice came through Zaeed's omni-tool communicator. She sounded tired – he doubted that she had slept either.

The bright orange glow from Zaeed's wrist illuminated a grimace. "Slavers… a Systems Alliance jail cell is too good for them. But it'll have to do, I guess."

"Once you find Kasumi, I'll leave the anonymous tip with the authorities about an attack. Just make sure to stay hidden while the Alliance cleans things up – I imagine that you two show up on a few watch lists."

Zaeed grunted. "I hope you're not hurting your credibility as the Shadow Broker by betraying the batarians."

"Well, maybe a little," Liara admitted. "But the Shadow Broker is known to do mysterious things in service of his cryptic goals. Either way, it'll be worth it as far as I'm concerned."

"Assuming everything goes smoothly, that is." The mercenary checked his assault rifle for what was probably the hundredth time that night. "You do realize we're expecting Vilmarc to fall for the same trick twice, right?"

"A diversionary frontal assault, coupled with a covert strike into deep enemy territory…" Liara mused. "But there is a slight difference here: **you** never had a chance of taking the spaceport by yourself. An attack by a large group of angry batarian slavers is much more believable... well, relatively."

"I wouldn't have too much faith in the 'covert strike' portion of the plan," Zaeed grumbled. "I'm still rubbish with the tactical cloak. I'm no Kasumi Goto."

"No, you're not – you're Zaeed Massani. You may not be as quick or silent, but you're a fighter – a scrapper. To put it simply, you're ruthless… and you can survive a bullet to the head."

"Sounds like somebody's been reading up on me." The mercenary chuckled. "Anyway… thanks, I guess."

"You're all important to Shepard, so that makes you important to me." Liara's voice was earnest.

Zaeed shuffled uncomfortably; he was not used to such sincerity. To his relief, he was spared the need to respond by the sound of a ship's engine.

Liara also heard the noise, through the communicator. "Just a quick word of warning – to prevent Elysium Flight Control from being too suspicious, I had told the batarian captain to cram his three crews onto a single ship. That's quite a lot of batarians you'll need to play nice with..."

Wrinkling his nose at the unpleasant thought, Zaeed performed one final check on his gear. "You sure you don't have any additional operatives you can send as back-up?"

"Not soon enough, if my estimates regarding Vilmarc's departure are correct." Liara paused. "You know… we can still call this off – let Vilmarc leave the planet and find another opportunity to attack him on better terms. This is your neck on the line here, not mine."

Zaeed waited until the roar of the ship's engines died down as it landed in the forest clearing. A large cargo bay door swung open, leaving a cavernous opening directly in front of the mercenary. A single batarian stepped out and looked at Zaeed, before turning and spitting derisively into the dirt.

"No." Zaeed strode confidently toward the ship. "We can't take that risk by waiting. I'm getting her back."


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Man, I don't think there's been a single author's note where I haven't apologized for the slow updates. Anyway, I got pretty burned out for a bit, and then Witcher 3 happened to my spare time…

Well, at least this chapter is a long one (hopefully not too long). If you're somebody who follows my other ongoing fic (ME:R) that should be updated shortly as well. Just needs some final proofreading.

~#~#~#~

"It reeks of human in here." One of the batarians growled, looking pointedly in Zaeed's direction.

If anything, the opposite was true. To avoid suspicion from Elysium Flight Control, the crews of three batarian ships had crowded onto a single slaver's vessel. Space was therefore limited, and so a number of them had been forced to wait in the dimly lit hold where emptied cages were kept. The cells were cramped, uncomfortable-looking spaces, and were a stark reminder of why the batarians had agreed to come to Elysium.

"That seems like an unavoidable problem in your line of work," Zaeed retorted to the slaver. "If you dislike the smell so much, then perhaps you should have put more thought into your life choices."

The batarian smirked and nudged one of his comrades. "You know? He looks strong; we could probably get a nice sum if we sold him on Khar'shan. **We** get the Broker's operative and tell a nice story of how **he** died in the assault. Nice and simple."

"This is a Velsak-class ship, right?" Zaeed interrupted with the seemingly inane question. When the only answer he received was mute puzzlement, he continued. "Let's just say I know a few things about this ship: two hundred meters long, a modified drive core designed for ship interception, and three electromagnetic harpoons for hijackings. Speaking of the drive core, do you know what's back here?" He pounded his fist against the metal alloy wall against which he leaned. "There's a conduit that runs vertically, half a meter back through this wall. Any idea what happens if I detonate something here? You have two options. You can be greedy and get yourselves all killed. Or, we can all play nice, and we'll all finish the day with exactly what we came for."

There was a moment's silent tension. But then the batarian merely grumbled something quietly and turned away.

Zaeed folded his arms and leaned his head back until it rested against the cool metal of the wall. He had fought the urge to escalate the confrontation, and quench his murderous rage by shooting a few slavers. But that wouldn't have helped Kasumi. Zaeed consoled himself by thinking about the fate these batarians would eventually earn. Once Kasumi was safe, Liara would pass word along to the authorities, and these slavers would either end up dead or in a Systems Alliance prison cell.

Zaeed stifled a yawn and wondered if Liara was finally taking the opportunity to sleep. They had both stayed up the entire night – Zaeed practicing with Kasumi's cloak, and Liara gathering any scrap of intel that might help the mission. In fact, it had been Liara's idea to research the batarians' ship to give Zaeed some leverage. It felt strange having somebody he barely knew care so much. Normally, Zaeed would have refused to trust such a stranger, but once she had dropped the visage of the Shadow Broker, there was something disarmingly genuine about the asari woman. He shook his head slightly, wondering if such a woman could truly survive in the Shadow Broker's realm of deceit and ruthlessness. She had gotten him this far, and yet...

The mercenary shook his head more fervently, trying to clear his mind of the distracting thoughts. He was close now – for better or worse, the next few hours would decide everything. The batarians would assault Vilmarc's mountainside base under the mistaken impression that they were capturing slaves. Zaeed would do his best to sneak ahead and rescue Kasumi. And somewhere in that chaos, he would attempt to put a bullet in Hector Vilmarc's skull.

~#~#~#~

Officially, Hector Vilmarc's holdout in the mountains was a "failed endeavor". It had been constructed in anticipation of a new spaceport in the area, but when Elysium Flight Control had canceled the port's construction, Vilmarc's building was left as a secluded satellite office. Secretly, Hector had planned all of this – the remote location allowed for privacy, while its elevation and distance from Elysium Flight Control made for an easier escape from the planet if needed.

The building itself was constructed into the mountainside, with twenty-five stories of polished windows reflecting the early morning sun. The windows ended just ten meters above the ground, where large metal doors sealed off a cave-like chamber that served as the base's only entrance or exit. Zaeed expected to find Hector somewhere in the offices at the top of the building, with Kasumi never far from his sight. Since there was no easy way to access the upper floors, Zaeed knew he would have to work his way up from the bottom.

The slavers' vessel swooped into sight of the building like a bird of prey. As it came alongside the gleaming windows it turned, and activated its reverse and forward thrusters simultaneously. The two opposing forces canceled each other out, but the power of the forward thrusters' exhaust had been aimed directly toward the building. In an instant, the glass shattered and exploded inwards. Then, the rear cargo bay door of the ship opened, revealing a line of batarians wielding grenade launchers. They fired into the broken windows, launching grenades to swiftly flood the hallways of the building with knockout gas.

The ship began to descend, preparing to land directly in front of the base's single cavernous entrance. A turret extended from the vessel's hull, and with a single precise strike of a GARDIAN laser, the massive metal doors ripped apart. When the smoke cleared, it looked as if a giant flaming fist had punched a hole through the alloy, leaving twisted tendrils of blackened metal.

With the initial chaos delivered, the ship landed, and armed batarian slavers began to stream into the morning light. Zaeed followed close behind. The assault team charged through the breach made in the metal gates, and the instant they did, Zaeed could hear weapons fire. Some of it was the staccato of assault rifles and the booming blasts of heavy pistols. However, the characteristic sounds of dart rifles were far more numerous – the batarians greatly outnumbered the surprised defenders, and the skirmish was becoming completely one-sided.

As Zaeed made his way into the breach, he quickly ducked to the side and paused, letting his eyes adjust to the relative darkness. The area in front of him was a wide chamber, with stacks of crates forming makeshift cover for the ongoing firefight. A few batarians lay dead or dying, but they had the advantage of numbers and surprise, and stun darts constantly whizzed through the air to disable Vilmarc's men. Zaeed knew that soon, the defenders would be utterly overwhelmed, and that he needed to stay in front of the batarians. It was vital to remain constantly beyond what Vilmarc believed to be the line of battle, and thus catch him off guard.

Activating the tactical cloak, Zaeed skirted along the wall of the entrance chamber, edging through the no man's land between the fighting batarians and humans. His movement speed with the cloak active felt painfully slow. But little by little, he made it to the human defensive line. Zaeed had little trouble getting past them, for by that point, less than a dozen humans were left standing against four times their number.

"Need to hurry," Zaeed whispered to himself from the back of the room, looking behind to see the steadily advancing horde of batarians. He quickly rounded a corner. But no sooner had he entered the corridor, than three armed men nearly crashed into him.

"What the hell?" One of the men gaped at the strange, distorted outline of Zaeed's imperfectly cloaked figure.

Zaeed lunged forward, causing the cloak to disengage. There was no space to fire his rifle, so he swung it like a club, striking the gaping man in the open mouth with the gun's barrel. With a howl of pain, the man stumbled back spitting blood. Zaeed then quickly reversed the weapon and thrust the butt of the rifle forward to the enemy on his left. He aimed lower this time, going for the unprotected Adam's apple of the man's throat. A violent, choking cough erupted, and like the first man, the second instantly recoiled from the pain.

But as Zaeed lashed out at his first two foes, the third was given more time to react. Rather than reach for a firearm, he elected to leap forward and tackle Zaeed, sending both men sprawling to the ground. Zaeed's assault rifle spiraled out of his grasp.

Zaeed swung his fist at the man on top of him, but then swore viciously as he received a punch in return. A second and a third blow struck down at Zaeed, and the old mercenary could taste blood. His hands shot upward and clawed at the enemy's face, groping and searching for the man's eyes to gouge. But the man on top of Zaeed was surprisingly quick and managed to twist his head away, continuing his pummeling assault. Behind this enemy, Zaeed could see that the guard with the bloody mouth was recovering and looking murderously eager to revenge his broken teeth. The guard with the injured windpipe was still gasping and wheezing, but even with only two enemies, Zaeed knew the struggle was slipping out of his control.

"There's no time for this," Zaeed growled. He managed to bend and bring one of his legs back, touching his knee to his chest for an instant before kicking at the guard's abdomen. The kick knocked his attacker off him, but the guard quickly got back to his feet and started forward again. Wasting no time, Zaeed grabbed a single item from his belt, and lobbed it into the air. It bounced once off the ceiling and landed somewhere in the middle of the three guards. Zaeed shielded his face, curled into a ball, and turned away.

Zaeed had never before been so close to the detonation of one of his incendiary grenades. His eyes clenched shut, but he could still feel the scorching wave of heat. He could also hear wailing screams and smell a terrible burning stench. The grenade had landed precisely where he wanted it, and so the body of the guard in front served to shield the mercenary from the worst of the blast.

As Zaeed straightened himself and uncovered his head, he turned to see the full extent of the devastation. The floors and walls within the grenade's blast radius were blackened and scorched. Three charred bodies lay unmoving, still smoking. The mercenary shook his head ruefully, and knew that the commotion in the hallway would not have gone unnoticed. He snatched up his assault rifle and raced down the hall, coming to an elevator. He wasn't surprised to find it already disabled, most likely done in an attempt to impede the invaders.

Zaeed worked his fingers into the narrow crack between the elevator doors. With a strained grunt, he began to pull, his face reddening with the effort. For a few moments, it seemed as if the doors would not budge. But then a low mechanical groan sounded, and slowly the doors began to give way.

The elevator car was somewhere above Zaeed, but in the pitch black of the elevator shaft, it was difficult to tell where. Still, in the interests of time and ammunition, the mercenary judged that the vertical climb was safer than fighting through twenty-five floors of enemies.

Zaeed pulled a grappling gun from his belt, aimed it, and fired it into the abyss above. There was a distant clang as the projectile found its mark, and a soft hiss as a quick-drying adhesive released and solidified. He pulled once on the rope to feel the tension before fixing it into his belt. And then he swung into the darkness, fixing himself to the opposite wall with the magnetic gloves and kneepads that had belonged to Kasumi. A small motor revved to life, reeling in the line to pull it taut and counteract some of Zaeed's weight.

"Hold on, Kasumi," Zaeed muttered as he began his ascent. "Almost there..."

~#~#~#~

"How many are there?" Hector Vilmarc glowered at his aides. Out of all the people in the meeting room on the top floor, he appeared to be the most composed. But if one were to look closely, there was still a barely-perceptible twitch in his right cheek betraying his anxiety.

"Several dozen, we think. But it's hard to tell... security teams posted to the lower levels aren't responding." The aide kept glancing over his shoulder to the room's entrance, as if he was expecting batarian slavers to burst through the door at any moment. "Should we contact the Elysium authorities for assistance?"

"Absolutely not!" The savagery in Hector's tone made the aide recoil. "The **last** thing we need is the Systems Alliance launching an investigation and going over this facility with a fine-toothed comb." Removing his spectacles, the tall man took a deep breath and began to pace the width of the room.

"Reports seem to indicate that the batarians are taking people alive with stun rifles. We can take solace in that at least, right?" another aide offered weakly.

Hector grimaced at this – he knew better than most that death could often be preferable to being taken alive by batarians. He surveyed the room, with the half dozen aides and secretaries who stared back at him with wide eyes. Stefan, his nephew, leaned against a wall, scratching at the exoskeletal supports that framed his newly mended body – a stark reminder of the broken bones Zaeed had inflicted. The thought of the older mercenary made Hector scowl, for doubtless he was to blame for this catastrophe. Zaeed had destroyed a profitable business relationship, and to make things worse, made Hector look like the guilty party.

"Mr. Vilmarc?" an aide asked, interrupting Hector's silent reverie.

"Yes," Hector responded. "The batarians are forced to use nonlethal weapons. We have no such limitations." He nodded toward one of his security guards. "Equip the people in this room with everything we have – assault rifles, grenades, whatever they can carry. We'll consolidate our defenses on the fourteenth floor. If the batarians find themselves taking too many casualties, they will withdraw."

"You want us to fight?" a secretary asked in a shocked voice. "We're not trained! We should try and escape while-"

"And doom our people already taken by the batarians?" Hector shook his head in condemnation of the secretary's apparent cowardice. "We must stand together and drive back the batarian threat. We **all **must fight."

Not long after, the room emptied, leaving Hector and Stefan alone. The younger man walked toward his uncle, with slightly jerking movements caused by his new exoskeletal frame.

"So, we're all fighting." Stefan nodded approvingly.

"Don't be stupid," Hector retorted bitterly. "Even if we drive the batarians off, it's only a matter of time before the Alliance gets wind of what happened here. We need to leave as soon as possible, and I have bought us some extra time."

Stefan blinked in surprise. "You mean-"

"Execute the pre-flight checks as quickly as possible. I'll secure the last of our precious 'cargo'."

The building had multiple hidden rooms scattered on various floors. And although they held illicit items such as drugs, guns, and even the occasional slave shipment, the locations were still generally known by the members of the Vilmarc crime syndicate. For the most part, fear and Hector's generosity kept those items untouched. But once in a while, there was an item of such value and importance, that Hector would trust no one. A secret, hidden staircase under Hector's desk led to a dimly lit tunnel that snaked into the mountain.

Hector's footsteps echoed as he followed the trail of ceiling lights in the tunnel. His breath began to condense as he walked, the temperature dropping as the icy mountain above and below constantly drained the tunnel's heat. He unlocked a steel door at the tunnel's end and pushed it open.

Kasumi sat manacled to a chair that was bolted to the floor. A small heater sat on the ground a few feet away, but still she shivered in the gloom. Her hood was still drawn back to reveal a pale face, but with eyes that stared at Hector with fiery hatred.

Hector smirked. He would break her resolve eventually, and find every treasure she had stolen and hidden away. "It's time to go, Kasumi Goto. We have much to do…"

~#~#~#~

By the time Zaeed found he could climb no further, he guessed he was somewhere around the nineteenth or twentieth floor. The grappling head had attached itself to the underside of the elevator car, and the large enclosure's presence blocked the rest of the vertical passage.

One floor below, the mercenary forced aside the elevator doors, and swung back into the light. There was a chill in the air here – the windows broken by the slaver's frigate had allowed the brisk mountain air to howl through the hallways. Raising his assault rifle to his shoulder, Zaeed activated the tactical cloak and stepped forward cautiously.

There were a handful of bodies scattered on the floor – people knocked unconscious by the gas the batarians had fired through the broken windows. The biting wind had long since dispersed the gas, but Zaeed judged that it would be several hours before anybody here regained consciousness.

The sound of steps on shattered glass made Zaeed instantly whirl to his right, nearly disrupting the integrity of the cloak as instinct overtook him. A small group of people were walking out of a room and into the hallway that bordered the line of windows. There were six of them, all heavily armed. Zaeed began to plan who he would shoot first. But then he paused, for something was not quite right.

They were clearly nervous, which wasn't unusual in itself. But it wasn't the anxiety that a trained soldier might show before battle: a tense alertness that could unleash in fury at any moment. Instead, it was a twitchy sort of nervousness, with shaking hands and eyes that darted around constantly. Zaeed judged that these people were just as likely to accidentally shoot each other as they were to shoot an actual enemy.

"They said they would follow us down… but where the hell are they?" A bald man at the back of the group hissed to his companions.

"It doesn't matter. We're to get ourselves to level fourteen. His orders."

"We shouldn't even be fighting. I've never fired one of these before – have you? We've waited here long enough, so if Mr. Vilmarc isn't here by now with his personal guards, then he's not coming at all."

"I've worked for him for ten years! He wouldn't abandon us! Plus, if he's going to start over again, he'll need our help."

"Maybe he's deciding to cut his losses," the bald man stated wryly. "That yacht of his is looking awfully appealing by now, I imagine…"

While they argued, Zaeed had activated an omni-tool that he had borrowed from Kasumi's spares. The thief had programmed it to execute many basic hacks and algorithms automatically, and one by one Zaeed gained access to the electronic systems inside each weapon. He intended to wait and follow the group, and then confront them in a more advantageous location. But when he overheard the word 'yacht' he felt a sudden pang of dread.

All six rifles overloaded simultaneously, sending up clouds of smoke and showers of sparks. A few of the weapons fell to the floor as their owners dropped them in shock. One woman screamed. And then Zaeed seemed to appear out of thin air, his own rifle in hand.

"What yacht?" asked Zaeed through gritted teeth, with a slow, deliberate emphasis on each word. When all he received was appalled silence, he pointed the rifle at the bald man's forehead and repeated the question.

"H-He has a private ship," the bald man stammered. "About half the size of an Alliance frigate, maybe. He doesn't use it much. I don't think it's officially registered with Elysium Flight Control."

Zaeed shook his head. "That can't be. There's no room to put a ship up here, and no additions were constructed onto this building."

"You get there from the roof. There's a short trail – not even paved – and then there's just a small cave with just enough room to hold the ship. There was no need for additional construction, and nobody outside of Hector or his personal staff really knows about it." The bald man held up his hands in surrender, terrified by the look on Zaeed's face.

Zaeed swore. Any construction would have meant purchase of materials, and possibly outside contractors – that was something Liara could easily track. But something created by nature, with minimal work needed meant that it was truly secret. "How long ago was the last time you saw him?" Zaeed questioned. But there was no need for them to answer. An instant later, an engine's roar sounded and echoed throughout the building, making the tiny glass shards on the ground tremble.

"That… bastard." One of the aides slumped heavily against a wall and slid to the ground. She shook her head despairingly as she held it in her hands. "That ship was the only way out of here…"

"He won't get far." Zaeed pushed past them and made his way toward one of the broken windows. He peered out, but instead of looking up at the departing ship, he gazed downward.

"W-what are you doing?"

"Taking a shortcut." Zaeed pulled out a second grappling gun and ripped the projectile head and cable from its housing. He slammed the anchoring end against a support pillar, with enough force so that the quick-drying adhesive exploded and cemented in place. The rest of the cabling was tossed out the window and left to dangle.

"You can't be serious…" The bald man gaped at Zaeed.

"If I were you, I'd find a good place to hide. Won't be long before that horde of angry batarians makes their way up here." With an ironic wave, Zaeed clipped an attachment from his belt around a section of the cable. And then he jumped.

The wind howled past Zaeed's ears as he half-plummeted, half-rappelled down the building's face. A part of him knew that he was being incredibly reckless, and yet he knew that there was no time for caution, no time for second-guessing. Several meters above the ground, he severed the belt attachment that secured him to the cable. He rolled as he hit the ground, going into a full sprint as he came upright again. Zaeed had only one chance of catching up to Hector Vilmarc's ship.

He slowed to a walk and allowed himself to catch his breath as the slaver's vessel came within sight. Three batarians had been left behind as a rear guard, to make sure that their escape from the planet was left secure. They looked at each other in confusion as they noticed Zaeed, but didn't immediately raise their weapons.

"We have a problem," Zaeed called out to them as he came within fifty paces.

"Yeah? What's that?"

"You're in my way." Zaeed fired three short bursts in rapid succession, each stream of bullets finding their target in a spray of blood. Wasting no time, he stepped over their bodies as he made his way toward the ship's unguarded cockpit. "Bloody hell that felt good," Zaeed said happily as he holstered his rifle.

It occurred to Zaeed that the smart thing might have been to leave one batarian alive, and use him to fly the ship. But the mercenary had piloted many different ships in his life – some of them batarian in design – and so the controls weren't entirely alien. He judged that he might not be able to pull off any complex maneuvers, but he could get the vessel off the ground, and more importantly, get it moving quickly.

As soon as the batarian frigate lifted itself off the ground, Zaeed set the thrusters on full blast. The sudden acceleration was so intense that the momentum dampeners were unable to adapt right away, and Zaeed slammed back into his seat with a force that almost made him pass out. Vilmarc's yacht, which had previously been a small shape in the distance, grew steadily larger. Both ships fought to escape Elysium's gravitational pull, but Zaeed slowly gained on his prey.

The blue skies of Elysium gradually transformed to black as both ships passed through the planet's upper atmosphere. Zaeed gritted his teeth, murmuring a low string of curses as he watched a screen tinged red, showing Vilmarc's ship in the center of a targeting reticle. If he didn't intercept the ship before it went into FTL, then his chance might be lost.

The display flashed green.

"Got you, you bastard!" Zaeed growled in triumph as he fired.

But it was not traditional weaponry that he launched. Three javelin-shaped projectiles fired from the underside of the batarian vessel, trailing reinforced carbon-fiber cables. Each found their mark and instantly crackled to life, electromagnetically attaching themselves to the hull. Vilmarc's ship desperately attempted to roll along its longitudinal axis and thus rip the harpoons free, but Zaeed matched its course began to reel in his catch.

A shudder passed through the ship as the two hulls made contact. Airtight seals were made, and automatic laser cutters went straight to work, slicing several holes into Vilmarc's ship. Zaeed readied himself for battle.

~#~#~#~

Author's Note: Fear not, the conclusion is actually like 95% written already. I just decided to break the chapter up into two parts because it felt weird to post a chapter that was like twice the length of everything else.


	7. Chapter 7

By all accounts, Hector's yacht was a beautiful vessel. The walls and floors glimmered with polished chrome and immaculate white paneling. There were observation decks, lounges, and libraries all decorated and furnished to the apex of luxury. Soft classical music played continuously over an intercom, adding to an overall impression of sophistication. Zaeed transformed those rooms and hallways into a warzone, a place of death.

Bullets splintered furniture and shattered valuable sculptures. The echo of weapons fire drowned out the classical music, punctuated by the shouts of battle and the last gasps of the dying. Blood stained the polished chrome and pooled on the white paneling.

Zaeed operated on instinct born of a hundred other such firefights. Fire, duck, reposition, repeat… One by one he picked off his enemies with a ruthless skill. He was outnumbered, but he had started to integrate the tactical cloak to help him reposition and catch enemies unaware – a style of combat that his foes were unfamiliar with. His cloaking was still imperfect, but no enemy would poke his head out of shelter long enough to notice.

It was not until Zaeed popped out of cover – ready to fire another killing burst – that he realized there was nobody left to shoot. He was greeted by silence broken only by his own panting breath. As he surveyed the carnage before him, he counted roughly a dozen bodies. His shields were depleted, his thermal clips nearly gone – but he had won.

"I think I'll hold onto this," Zaeed said approvingly as he patted the small generator that powered his borrowed tactical cloak. He stood straight and took a few steps before noticing that his utility belt had fallen. As he bent to pick it up, he noted that a stray bullet had grazed his hip and ripped through the material to render the belt unwearable. The mercenary merely chuckled at his narrow brush with death. There were few things in life that compared to the exhilaration of defeating an enemy, and he felt invincible. He leisurely tossed the ruined belt onto a couch pockmarked by bullet holes. The still-smoking assault rifle was placed next to it.

Zaeed began to search the bodies for spare thermal clips. He hummed a jovial tune as he searched, figuring he had endured every man that Vilmarc had to throw at him. It would be a simple matter now, he thought, to corner the bastard and put a bullet in him once and for all.

A hand roughly grabbed Zaeed by the shoulder and whirled him around, then struck him across the face with a force that sent him flying backward. The mercenary landed on a table that immediately broke under his weight. A cut split open on Zaeed's forehead, and the blood trickled down to obscure his vision. Although temporarily blinded, Zaeed instinctively rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding something heavy that slammed down onto the fragmented table.

"Damn it," Zaeed hissed as he scrambled to his feet, desperately trying to reach the assault rifle he had set down. He tried to swipe away the blood from his face with one hand while fumbling for his weapon with the other.

"You're not getting away this time," a familiar voice spoke coldly.

A hand closed about Zaeed's ankle before pulling him back from the couch, dragging the mercenary back to the ground with a surprising strength. A boot kicked him in the stomach, leaving Zaeed spluttering and gasping for breath. Zaeed gritted his teeth and stared up in pure loathing at his attacker. It was Stephan Vilmarc.

"I really should have killed you that night," said Zaeed in a hoarse voice.

"Yet instead, you left me with broken arms and legs," Stefan responded with a sneer. "And then I got these lovely exoskeletal supports that I can use to snap your neck. Seems… fitting, doesn't it?" As if to emphasize his point, he kicked Zaeed again. The mercenary curled into a ball and tried to shift his body to avoid the full brunt of the kick, but the tremendous power given to Stefan by his augmentations made Zaeed cry out.

"Bastard!"

"I will break you, Zaeed Massani. Nice and slowly…" Stefan knelt and closed his hands about Zaeed's throat.

Zaeed flailed and tried to strike at Stefan's face, but the younger man endured with a grim determination. The grip tightened. Slowly, Zaeed started to weaken as his body began to starve for oxygen. He could hear laughter now, and anger surged within him. A moment's overconfidence had allowed him to be ambushed. And Kasumi would pay for his mistake.

His right hand reached out once more, but not to strike at Stefan. He felt on the couch's seat, grasping for anything he could find. The assault rifle was too far away, but Zaeed's fingers closed around something attached to the broken utility belt. It was something small and round…

Even though he couldn't see it, Zaeed knew it was one of his grenades. He inwardly shuddered at the memory of those charred corpses killed by the inferno grenade back on Elysium. As his vision started to go dark, he felt a peculiar mix of foreign emotions. There was regret at not being able to save Kasumi, and to his surprise, even a measure of fear at his impending fiery death. _"You're getting too old," _he thought to himself. _"But at least at this proximity, it should be quick. And you won't go to your grave alone…"_ He pressed a button on the small metallic sphere.

There was a sudden pain. But it was not the terrible agony of being burned alive. There was a blinding flash that momentarily pierced through his darkening vision, and a shockwave of noise that seemed to resound throughout his entire body. In an instant, he was struck simultaneously blind and deaf, unable to comprehend much beyond a debilitating sense of disorientation.

"_A flashbang grenade!" _Zaeed had forgotten about Kasumi's weapons. Before the mission, he had judged that if he was to use grenades, then his own incendiary explosives would be more effective than Kasumi's flashbangs. However, in the end, he had figured that there was something appropriate about bringing all of Kasumi's tools, considering he was trying so hard to emulate her style of infiltration. He had elected to bring with him a single flashbang grenade.

Zaeed felt a tremendously heavy weight fall over him. He quickly realized that the flashbang must have also shorted out the electronics that powered Stefan's exoskeletal supports, turning them into nothing more than a load of dead weight.

For a heartbeat it seemed as if Zaeed was completely stuck. He could feel rapid bursts of breath past his ear, as Stefan was surely screaming curses that he could not hear. Slowly and with great effort, Zaeed pulled himself free, and then allowed himself a second to catch his breath. But only for a second. Then, his hands reached out, searching for Stefan's neck. If the younger man pleaded for mercy, Zaeed could not hear it. There was only silent darkness, and the familiar sensation of snapping a man's neck.

Shortly afterward, a shrill ringing replaced the silence, and a dim light illuminated the darkness. The temporary effects of the flashbang grenade began to fade, and Zaeed stumbled his way forward once more. There was still one man he needed to kill.

~#~#~#~

Kasumi had noticed the twitch in Hector's cheek back on Elysium. It was subtle, but years as a thief had taught her to be observant. Now, Hector's panic would be obvious to anyone. His hands shook as he compulsively cleaned his spectacles, and he twitched at every unexpected noise that sounded in the cockpit. For the last several minutes, he had been staring wide-eyed at a screen that showed a video feed of various parts of the ship.

"He's… not human," Hector said in a shocked voice as he turned away from the screen, his face drained of all color.

"Really? Zaeed looks a little small to be a krogan." Kasumi knew there was only one person who could have boarded the yacht, and struck such fear into Hector. She relished in his dismay.

Hector scowled, but raced past her to a command station on the opposite side of the cockpit. "I guess we'll just have to see how long he can hold his breath," he said softly.

"What?" Kasumi asked in alarm. "What are you doing?"

"Sealing off the cockpit," Hector replied as he started to override the ship's safety measures. "… And then venting everything else into space. Now kindly shut up and let me work."

For a moment, Kasumi was too stunned to react. Then she began to struggle desperately, trying to wrench free from the manacles that chained her wrists and legs to the chair. However, for all her efforts, all she achieved was nearly tipping the seat over. She recovered, but as the chair settled again on its four legs, she had an epiphany – unlike on Elysium, the chair was no longer bolted to the floor. Kasumi began to rock back and forth.

"I told you to-" Hearing the commotion behind him, Hector looked over his shoulder. Then he saw the danger.

Kasumi was already on the move. By some miracle of her dexterity, she was on her feet – still bound to the chair – but taking short steps as quickly as her manacled legs would allow. Her thigh wasn't fully healed, and so the combined weight of her body and the heavy metal chair made every movement agony. With a cry of pain and unbridled fury she barreled forward. Hector's hand sprung to his waist for his pistol, but before he could aim, she slammed into him. They both topped to the floor in a heap.

"You bitch!" Hector snarled and tried to pull away from the thrashing woman. She could barely move, and the pain in her thigh brought involuntary tears to her eyes. Kasumi kept struggling to throw herself at him, to keep him down and buy Zaeed as much time as possible. She tried to butt him with her head, to bite him, to spit at him – anything she could possibly muster.

Hector managed to extricate himself and then pulled Kasumi's chair upright again, standing behind her and holding the seat firmly in place. "People would pay more for you whole," Hector rasped between gasping breaths. "But if you're going to be this much trouble… well… I think I'm willing to accept the lesser profit." He dug his pistol into her shoulder, and prepared to fire a shot that would obliterate the socket.

"Let her go."

Hector turned slowly, dragging the chair with him. Then he shuddered in horror.

Zaeed stood in the doorway of the cockpit, his face a rigor of murderous fury. His features were covered in blood from the cut on his forehead, giving his grim face a ghastly appearance. He was a walking avatar of death, yet he spoke the three words calmly and quietly.

Hector aimed the pistol at Kasumi's head, then at Zaeed, and then back at Kasumi again. He was shaking uncontrollably, and in the rising panic he couldn't decide where to point his gun. But then he nearly laughed with relief as an obvious realization dawned on him: Zaeed had his assault rifle in one hand, pointing down at the ground. His finger wasn't even on the trigger.

"You stupid, arrogant fool." Hector could barely contain his mocking laugh. Did Zaeed really think he could intimidate a man into surrender without even pointing his weapon? He was Hector Vilmarc, a man who came from nothing to become the most dangerous person on Elysium. The pistol aimed at Zaeed's head and fired until the thermal clip overheated and sizzled.

Zaeed's body abruptly stopped as the bullets found their mark. And then the body flickered.

Hector's mouth went agape as the bullets passed through and disrupted the holographic decoy. But before he could react, a translucent shape shimmered in his periphery. Suddenly, Hector's legs were kicked out from underneath him, and he crashed painfully onto the ground. He had been distracted, too lost in false triumph to notice the shadowy blur's advance.

"Hello Hector." Zaeed materialized above the fallen crime boss, dripping blood onto the man's spectacles and turning his world a lurid shade of red.

"You-!" Hector started to rage at the man above him.

Zaeed struck down brutally, feeling the man's jaw break beneath his blows. Then he struck again. When it became clear that Hector had no fight left in him, he stood. "Sit still," he told Kasumi and he began to work a small laser cutter to sever her chains.

Kasumi winced as she got to her feet, still feeling a throbbing pain in her thigh. As she looked down at the pathetic figure of Hector Vilmarc, Zaeed pushed something into her hands.

"I think you should have the honor," said Zaeed. It was Hector's pistol, loaded with a fresh thermal clip.

Kasumi aimed the gun, thinking of all the places she could fire and turn Hector's death into a slow, bloody affair. But then she shook her head, pulled the trigger once, and turned away. The bullet entered directly between Hector's eyes, killing him instantly.

"A kinder death than he deserves," Zaeed observed.

"Maybe," Kasumi replied. "But I'm just a simple thief. I don't think I have that cruelty in me."

"Simple?" Zaeed scoffed, but with a ghost of a grin. "Can you walk?"

"Not very well, I think. My leg hasn't fully healed yet."

Kasumi placed an arm around Zaeed's shoulders, and together they hobbled out of the cockpit. They walked in silence for several minutes, passing through hallways littered with the men Zaeed had killed. Kasumi's eyes widened at the slaughter; she knew Zaeed was deadly, however even this surprised her. But then, with a tenderness that shocked her even more, Zaeed reached out a hand and pulled Kasumi's black and silver hood back onto her head.

"That's better," Zaeed said. "Can't go around being a master thief without that hood of yours. You need that air of mystery, I think."

Kasumi smiled. She had nearly forgotten that Zaeed had never actually seen her unobscured face before. "Hector said he would sell bits and pieces of my identity to the highest bidder. Then he would sell me."

"Figured as much. Well, Liara said she would wipe Hector's files, before the Alliance or anyone else gets their hands on them." Zaeed gave a brief chuckle. "Come to think of it, they should be storming Hector's base right about now, and clearing out all those angry batarians. God damn, I love it when a plan comes together…"

"You'll have to fill me in on the full details later," Kasumi replied. "I guess this means you've finally found out that Liara is the Shadow Broker?"

"Couldn't have done this without her… Shepard really knows how to pick 'em."

Kasumi nodded her agreement, but then her voice took on a more serious tone. "Zaeed, I know what you must have gone through for all this. I just wanted to say th-"

"Forget it," interrupted Zaeed. "I've had worse missions, believe me. Just tell me – are we about even yet? My head's still pounding from that damn flashbang grenade, and I'm having trouble keeping track."

"…I don't think friends need to keep track of such things."

Zaeed grunted in response. But from what Kasumi could tell, the utterance sounded pleased.

They made their way back onto the batarian ship, and disengaged the seals and magnetism that bound the two vessels together. Slowly, the two ships began to drift apart as Kasumi started to reengage the engines and plot a course for the system's mass relay.

"Doubt we could go back to Elysium in either of these two ships," Kasumi said as she operated the controls. "But there are plenty of other places we could go. Where to now?"

A loud snore was her only answer. Zaeed – exhausted, and secure in the knowledge of a mission completed – had passed out in his chair. Kasumi smiled softly at the sleeping man and pressed a single button. The ship then vanished into FTL, speeding away into a galaxy utterly unprepared for the trouble that a veteran mercenary and a master thief might create.

~#~#~#~

Author's Note: And there we have it! I had originally wanted to tell this general story arc over 3 chapters, but I suppose I tend to get a little… verbose. My inclination now is to end the fic here, but if I ever get a good idea for a follow-up I may continue it. Or more likely, I would probably just post it as a separate sequel fic. Either way, I'm going to sleep on it, and I may end up marking this fic as 'Complete' in the next few days. Maybe I'll go through with that 'Liara protecting Shepard's crew as the Shadow Broker' spin-off (sort of) idea. Or maybe I'll pull the trigger on the other few ideas I have. Or _maybe _I'll just stick to one fic at a time because I'm a slow writer. :P

Rambling aside, thanks to everybody who followed, favorited, and especially reviewed. I sincerely hoped you enjoyed this.


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